


November Rain

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Never had two people fought harder not to care for each other. But fate and time had had their own plans. They were foolish to ever have thought it was up to them at all.





	1. PART ONE

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**PART ONE**

_Shut the door to the moon_

_And let the birds gather_

_Play no more with the fool_

_And let the souls wander_

_And bleed_

_From the soul…_ (The Swell Season – “The Moon”)

 

_Sirius Black_

_November 1st 1981, 1:33 A.M._

 

The tricky thing about second chances is that they never come alone; there’s always a catch, always a ‘but’, some kind of price to pay. First opportunities are hardly anything like that. They’re almost like gifts falling from of the sky; like snowflakes waiting to find rest on somebody’s curious tongue, or somebody’s open hand. All you have to do is catch them, simple as that.

Second chances, however, come with a plethora of limitations and restrictions designed to make you regret missing out on your first chance. People always say you should consider yourself lucky if you’re awarded a second chance because they don’t come often. Maybe that’s true. But, personally, I have always found that concept hard to understand; when with every additional chance given one must pay a higher price each time.

I didn’t even know what chance I was on. Somewhere along the line I’d lost count. Yet, somehow, I was aware that I’d officially reached the highest level of bidding. After this night I’d have no more to give, no more to bargain for. My pride was literally all I had left and I was about to give that up too. 

The rain fell heavily on that cold, dark night. I looked up and saw that there were no stars out in the sky; only dark rain clouds. Not even the dim glow of the moon was visible tonight.  As I looked around me, the town seemed nearly a complete blur. Cold water trickled down my back. My shirt, though protected by the thick black leather jacket I was wearing, was quickly becoming soaked. I shivered for a second, and I wondered if it was really the cold wind creeping into my bones that was making me do so.

I wiped the rain water off my face and I could see the street was deserted. Only the streetlights shone above and there were only a couple of houses on the block in which lights remained on. I was dispirited to see that the house I stood in front of wasn’t one of them. I pictured her warm in her bed, sound asleep, her mind full of dreams; reality seeming like an illusion. And there I was standing outside her door about to disrupt her tranquility. But I had no choice. I had worn down all my chances right down to this now-or-never moment.

My boots squished on small puddles across the brick pathway as I made my way around the house. Lighting flashed across the sky but I remained unperturbed.  I thought it peculiar, to find myself at a point in life where being struck by lightning didn’t seem like the worst thing that could happen.

 I pondered this as I stepped off the pathway and unto the muddy grass of the yard, passing the familiar pine tree and empty jasmine bushes. My memory covered them with snow and I was forced to look away. A branch stuck out at me, brushed my leg as if attempting to grab me and pull me back. _Remember me?_ , it seemed to ask.

_It’s probably better if I don’t._

But it was even harder to keep the memories away as I stood beneath her balcony staring up. It was like being surrounded by ghosts that endure only to replay certain scenes again and again. I saw them moving in familiar ways, speaking words only she and I could ever know had been spoken. He threw pebbles at her glass door; she leaned over the balustrade. He laughed at her distress; she scolded him for teasing her. I heard their voices, though no louder than whispers, echoing through the rain:

_“Hey, Rapunzel, let down your hair!”_

I inhaled deeply and looked down at my feet, squeezing my wand in my hand. This slight movement caused the ghosts to disperse and I was glad to see them gone. And yet somehow, some deeper, subconscious part of me would have liked for them to remain, only not as a memory.

I swallowed hard and raised my wand. There was no time to waste reminiscing. Somewhere, wherever it was that life plans were stored; in a dusty forgotten library or a locked cabinet, with the key lost and left to rust; there was a clock beside mine, ticking, counting down, only minutes left.

So I waved my wand and watched silvery wisps pour out of it, turning like a small tornado, feet above the ground. Swiftly, it began to take shape and soon a large bear-like silver dog stood up, pawing the muddy earth excitedly, nudging me with its snout.

As I got down on one knee, he became very still, sat down and listened intently.

 “Wake her. Let her know I’m here. Be gentle.”

He let out a soft bark and circled the ground once before scampering up the wind into the balcony. I stood like a pillar watching him go. He phased through her sliding glass door and I waited, wondering for a moment what I was doing, why I had suddenly made up my mind to come here tonight and see her. Why the pressing necessity to tell her all now, after all these years? I had carried this with me for so long, it seemed pointless to speak of it now. Why should telling her now change anything?

I’d imagined her reaction all the way to her doorstep and none of the scenarios had been pleasant ones. I knew from past experiences and failed attempts that the final outcome could not be a good one. It was, after all, for her sake that I had withheld all this time. But we had somehow arrived at this crucial moment and it could no longer be postponed. Call it a dying man’s last wish; a last minute caprice, but suddenly it didn’t seem so tragic if I got nothing back. Perhaps it was the general sense that I had nothing left to lose egging me on. After everything that had happened tonight this had to be the least of my worries.

Right?

A dim golden light suddenly filled the room contained behind the glass doors. A hazy gray shadow approached and the white curtain swished for a second.  I thought I could make out her face, but the darkness and the rain were making it impossible to see clearly.  The curtain swished back into its regular position and I swallowed hard. Turning away, I walked back towards the front of the house.

 Just as I made it to the front steps I heard the soft click of the lock and the door opened in front of me. 

There she stood, dressed in a long, light blue nightgown, pulling a white woolen shawl over her sleeveless shoulders. She combed through her messy strawberry blonde fringe with her fingers while her eyes adjusted to the light 

“Emmeline…” I muttered.

She looked me over and when her squinting eyes grew suddenly very round and wide I knew she’d realized I was standing in a puddle, drenched from head to toe, and soaking in more water as the rain fell upon me.

 “Sirius, what are you doing here? Are you drunk? Come in!” she urged as she opened the door wider and stepped aside to let me in.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked closing the door behind us. “Do you realize what time it is?”

“I’m sorry; I know it’s late,” I began. She waved her wand in the air and a large blue towel emerged from its tip. She quickly caught it with her free hand and wrapped it around my shoulders. My heart gave a small leap as I watched her silently while she dried my face with the corners of the towel. My eyes met hers for a split second but she looked away almost instantly. Suddenly my insides felt very warm but I didn’t attribute that to the towel. 

“You’re as pale as a sheet…come sit by the fire,” she said taking my hand and leading me from the foyer, to a warm white sofa in the common room in front of the fireplace. It looked inviting but I wasn’t there to get comfortable. I did wish for nothing more than to be able to sit there all night beside her warm, comfortable and happy but I knew now that I’d never see nights like those again. 

I thought of all the lasts I had missed. All the moments I hadn’t said goodbye to. So many opportunities taken for granted; all melted away like snow in the last winter of my life.

Emmeline tugged at my hand but then turned to look at me when I didn’t move. Her eyes carefully searched my face. “What’s wrong, Sirius?”

“I can’t, Emmy,” I said, retracting my hand from hers. “I don’t have much time.”

            The lines on her forehead deepened and she blinked, fighting confusion with anxiety. “Why? What’s going on?”

            I swallowed and although ninety percent of my body was still very wet, my mouth was very dry. The words were inside my head, I could see them, but when I thought of saying them, I couldn’t get my mouth to open. I couldn’t verbalize them. If I did, they would be out there in the physical world, able to hurt anyone they came across, including myself. 

            I gazed over at the sofa once more and I felt as though there was a hand squeezing my heart. I wanted those late nights back. I thought perhaps if I wished hard enough it would all go back to how it was before. But I couldn’t wish any harder and nothing was changing. I felt my breath leave me as I stood there paralyzed, afraid to move and afraid to speak. My jaw was clenched and tears were stinging my eyes, because there was nothing I could do to put it back right. There was absolutely no magic in the world that could make everything right once more.

            “Sirius, please speak, you’re scaring me with your silence,” Emmeline said wrapping the shawl tighter around herself. 

            I finally opened my mouth and took a deep breath before saying, “Something terrible happened tonight, Em.”

 My throat began to close up and my nose began to sting. “James and Lily...”

            Despite all my efforts, my voice cracked towards the end and I cleared my throat to disguise it. It was impossible, I couldn’t utter the words. I knew that the moment I felt them roll off my tongue a wave of emotions would come tumbling out of me and I would lose what little self-control I’d managed to gather in the last hour. If there ever was a time when I should’ve looked strong, it was then. But my mind kept wandering back to the revolting images I’d just seen and I was afraid I’d break down in front of her the way I’d done when I found their house in shambles…their cold lifeless bodies staring blankly up at me…

 Even now in my most vulnerable moment I feared that she would think of me as weak. However, words no longer seemed to be necessary. Understanding dawned upon her as her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth.

            “You don’t mean…please say it’s not what I’m thinking…” she begged but I could already hear her voice filling with fear. She closed her eyes tightly almost as if she were wishing the thought away.

            “Voldemort was at Godric’s Hollow tonight…and James and Lily…they…they didn’t…” My hands were tight fists in my pockets and I realized now that I was shaking. 

Emmeline let out a tiny sob as she cupped both hands over her mouth and tears welled up in her eyes.

            “How…what happened? How did he find them?” she asked looking up at me. Her voice quavered and her eyes were heavy with tears, her nose had already turned a bright red. Before I could think of an answer, she gasped, “Where’s Harry?”

            I purposely avoided her first two questions. There would never be enough time in one night to explain it all to her. Besides, I was afraid that she may not believe me even if I tried. “Harry’s alright…I don’t know why or how but the killing curse seems to have rebounded off him. He’s with Hagrid. Dumbledore’s ordered to have him taken to his aunt and uncle’s.

            “As for Voldemort…I’m not sure where he’s gone…Dumbledore might have some theories as to what exactly happened but I don’t think you’ll hear about any of that until morning.”

            Emmeline chewed on her lower lip and stared blankly at my feet as she went over the bits of information in her head. I could see the slow process taking place. How many times had I sat and watched her, studied her facial expressions. Every twitch, every slight, ghostly movement was a thought twice as grand gliding through her mind. 

            Her wrinkled forehead, her furrowed brow, even the incessant, subconscious wringing of her fingers…they all predicted what I already knew would come…

Suddenly, she was shaking her head and tears were falling abundantly from her eyes down to her bare feet. She raised her hands once more to catch an army of sobs that escaped from her mouth all at once. 

As she emitted hiccup after incomplete hiccup, I panicked that she would somehow stop breathing. Not knowing what else to do, I stepped toward her and pulled her close. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight as if somehow I could hold her together and keep her from crumbling into pieces to the floor.

She mumbled incoherent things, that I knew would tear me down too if I could understand them. As it was, something was bubbling inside me ready to tear me apart, a pain like I’d never felt before – a pain that I could feel all over my body but whose epicenter I could not pinpoint if I wanted to. 

I whispered into her ear lies; things we both knew weren’t true, but we both needed to hear. That was the trouble with verbalizing hurtful words. You needed at least twice the amount of soothing ones to make everything alright again. And even then, sometimes an entire collection of dictionaries would never suffice.

            I don’t know if she cared about what I had to say, but soon her sobs were giving way to each other. She wrapped her arms around my midriff and my heart had the audacity to skip a beat. I dropped my speech mid-sentence, realizing how little words mattered anymore. I felt her warm in my arms and for a second – just for a second – the pain faded. And I started to wonder what kind of person I was, to stand there enjoying that compassionate embrace, when my best friend had been murdered mere hours ago? What kind of friend forgets, for the smallest of instances, the image of your lifeless body just to inhale the scent of a girl’s hair?

            But the scent of jasmines in her hair had always had that effect; it took me away, made me invincible.  I could erase entire decades and centuries. I could live in alternate universes. Rewrite history. Vanquish all evil. Bring back the dead. Conquer the world.

            “When will it all end?” she whispered through restrained sobs. “How much more can we possibly take?”

            I had no answers for her. Not when I had wondered the same things day in and day out since the beginning of this war.

            “I’m scared, Sirius,” she added. “Every time something horrible happens it feels as though we’ve reached the limit, as though things can’t possibly get worse…but then the limit keeps moving further and further away and—”

            She tightened her hold on me.

“—I’m scared that the worst is yet to come.”

A pang of pain crossed my chest at her words. I held her closer, tighter and buried my nose in her hair trying not to think, trying to forget, to pretend just for a moment that her fears had no real basis, that there was still hope…

Everyone must have a different idea of what the ultimate worst of this war will be. Some perhaps think that Voldemort will win, that entire countries will be subdued, the muggle race vanquished, and that anyone with an ounce of integrity will be either mercilessly killed or put to slavery.

But for others, the worst could be anything at all. Voldemort’s ultimate reign would seem insignificant next to these. It could be the loss of both your parents, for example. Or leaving your child orphaned and defenseless in a cruel world. The worst could be finding out one of your best friends has betrayed you, right as you give in to cold death…

The thing is, you won’t know until it comes, the moment your last hope is vanquished, the moment the worst has come. It bears no warning. It just pulls the rug from right under your feet. And when it hits you, it hits you hard, cruelly, mercilessly…

I knew the feeling only too well, having already lost so much. And yet somehow I was still standing. Somehow I had made it this far. 

And yet, only one thought still managed leave me cold, breathless. Losing Emmeline, never having her in my life again…for me, that was the worst that could happen.            “Emmy, I don’t have much time,” I said, releasing her and pushing her away gently. Her arms unraveled from around me, as she looked up at me disconcerted. 

            As I pulled the towel around from my shoulders and hung it on the arm rest of the sofa, I tried not to think about the possibility of not holding her again. I tried not to think about this being the last time. But once I looked at her again it was hard not to consider it.

            “I’m leaving tonight…” I said. 

            “Leaving?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise and what I hoped was distress. “Where are you going?”

            I shook my head. “I think it’s probably best if I don’t tell you.”

            I could see by the sudden furrowing of her brow that she was ready to argue but I quickly interjected before she could say anything else, “For your own safety, Emmy, don’t ask me anymore.”

            She tried to search my face for an answer, but with her mouth forming a straight line, I knew she wouldn’t push the subject.

            I inhaled deeply, trying to gather up my courage. “However…there’s something I wanted to tell you before I left…”

            “What is it?” she asked, her curiosity somewhat renewed.

            I took her hands in mine, brushing my thumbs against the soft skin on the back of them, tracing the thin line of the scar on the left one. 

            We could stand here and not say another word. We could stand here and leave it at this, leave this moment untouched. And I would forever remember her delicate, serene. If I didn’t say another word she could forever be my Emmy, and we could live forever in the possibility. 

            But a stronger instinct within in me pushed me to proceed. That tactic had been tried before. It was now time to come clean.

            “It’s you Emmy,” I finally uttered in one impulsive zap, closing my eyes, holding my breath, my heart beating in my ears. “It’s always been you.”

            I opened my eyes to find her staring back, her face unflinching, somber. 

“Sirius –”

            “It’s always been you, Emmeline…the only girl I’ve ever cared for, the only constant thing in my useless, careless life…” I continued with a sudden rush that started at my head and went all the way down to my feet. Excitement and fear were crowding my chest and I felt breathless, as if I’d been running for hours…days…years…

            She was looking away and I could see her lower lip begin to tremble but now that I’d started I was finding it hard to stop. I couldn’t lose momentum now; she had to know…I had to tell her everything.

“I have spent the last five years so hopelessly in love with you—”

            “Sirius, please…stop…”

            Emmeline had whispered so softly that her voice was barely audible above the sound of the rain that continued to fall outside. The words fell back into my throat as hard lumps and I was suddenly very cold and stiff once more. Tears were falling down her face again and the rush within my body vanished. She carefully slipped her hands out of mine as if afraid of hurting me. She brought them to her face and wiped her cheeks, never once daring to meet my gaze.

            “I’m sorry,” I said, swallowing hard, turning my own gaze down to my feet. “I didn’t mean to…I just thought…”

            Incomplete phrases formed inside my head as I struggled to decide whether I should fix this; whether it was even possible, or whether I should just give it up once and for all and walk away.

            I looked back up at her as she pulled the shawl over her shoulders once more, keeping her arms wrapped around herself, her gaze still cast aside. My insides constricted with frustration. A dormant part of me wanted to shake her, force a different reaction out of her. A slap, a kiss – it didn’t matter much anymore which one she opted for; I wanted something concrete, something to end the doubts. But once again she had managed to dodge the question and the answer all together.

            But what difference would it make? Whatever her reaction, at the end of it all, I still had to leave, to never return, to never see her again. I realized now how pointless it was to hope for her love or her rejection.     

            At last, I let out a deep breath and said, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

            Her eyes flickered momentarily towards me and I felt that flame of frustration grow just a little. I felt another impulse coming, and before I could obey it and make matters worse I decided it was time for me to leave.

            “I better go now,” I said.

            “How long?” she suddenly asked, her eyes finally meeting mine. “How long will you be gone?”

            “I don’t know.”

            Her forehead creased with worry again, and yet she managed to sound hopeful. “You _are_ coming back, right?”

            I stared blankly at her, not knowing what to say. 

            “ _Right?_ ” she reiterated, raising her eyebrows, fear slowly tainting her hope.

            “Take care of yourself, Emmeline” I said.

            I saw the moment I crushed her hopes cross her face. I’d done it only too many times before not to recognize her soul writhing behind her eyes. I felt my own heart shrink at the sight, but there was no other way about it so I finally turned to leave.

            “So that’s it then?” she asked, choking on her tears as she fought to sound angrier than she did hurt. “You just leave, just like that, and never come back?”

            I was tempted to turn around and let her know I wouldn’t be the first to be guilty of that, but I kept walking instead. I wanted to leave on good terms, and there were too many unresolved moments between her and I that would not be solved tonight if I stopped to humor her reproaches.

            “Sirius!” she cried. 

            I took a deep breath to calm the fighting impulses within me. As much as I didn’t want to argue, I didn’t want my last memory of her to be of her crying my name out in scorn so I stopped for a moment.

            I waited a second and when she didn’t respond, I looked over my shoulder at her. She was scowling, and holding her arms tightly crossed in front of her. But she also remained stubborn and unmoving.

            As I walked away I tried to shake off the bitterness I was starting to feel. Maybe I’d had too much hope coming to her house. Maybe I’d allowed myself to believe something would change. Yes, leaving made the whole ordeal pointless, it was true, but I couldn’t help resenting her for not exposing her heart to me once and for all, the way I’d done for her.

            “Sirius,” she said. The tone of anger in her voice was gone now, replaced with one that sounded more like an imploration.

            “Sirius!” she said louder, her voice breaking, and I could feel my resentment fading with the fragile sound of her voice.

            “Sirius, wait!”

            I was determined not to stop, but the urgency in her voice seized me. Perhaps it was because I heard something new and different in it. Instead of a reproach, what I heard was hopeful resolution.

            With the door open in front of me and the wind whipping rain against me, I turned around – partly curious and partly baffled as I saw her marching towards me. My heart seemed to stop beating and even my blood seemed to freeze inside me. Before I could even register what was happening she threw her arms around me, the shawl falling to the floor, and kissed me, full on the mouth. I staggered backwards for a second, stunned, my brain short circuiting, trying to process what was happening. Was I dreaming? 

            But I couldn’t have been because her lips tasted a million times better than they had in my dreams. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer to me; my heart pounding away in my chest, my head spinning. Everything had stopped making sense, but I didn’t care.

            She pulled away, grasping the back of my neck and pressing her forehead to mine. “It‘s always been you for me too.”

            I smiled and spoke half-way through a laugh of relief, “Really?”

            She smiled bashfully back at me but nodded and I pulled her closer again pressing my cheek to hers. “Oh, Emmy…my Emmy…”

            “I’ve been so foolish,” she whispered in my ear and I could detect many various emotions intertwining with each short quaver of her voice: regret, relief, timidity...and I smiled, because I loved knowing her, every tiny facet that made up her being, down to the smallest particle. I imagined grain pieces of her scattered across a vast sandy shore, and I would always be able to pick up the ones that made her up, finding short lived victories with each one.            

            “That’s okay, it doesn’t matter now,” I said pulling my arms from around her and holding her face in my hands. It was surreal…I wondered how this could be. I’d been prepared for the worst; I’d thought the worst had happened! Yet there we stood, the connection between the before and the now was almost a blur in my mind, as if the world had turned and began spinning in the opposite direction and we had been switched into an alternate universe where such things as happy endings were possible.

            But then the wind and rain chilled my body through as reality crashed down all around me once more. I felt my face fall as I realized this was anything but a happy ending.

“What’s wrong?” she asked noticing the sudden look of despair on my face.

            “I have to go.”

            “No, you don’t!” she urged. “You can’t!”

For a moment, part of me felt like it would’ve been better if she hadn’t felt the same way at all. I realized how much harder it would be to walk away from her now.  I almost scoffed out loud at the irony and wished that it were tangible so that I could easily rip it apart with my hands. For that short moment I battled with myself not to curse the only thing I’d ever truly wanted.  

            “It’s not that simple, Em…I have to do this.”

            “What is it? I’ll come with you!” she replied eagerly, standing up straighter as if about to run upstairs and pack her bags.

            “No, I have to do this alone, I don’t want you to be implicated,” I explained.

            “But—” she persisted, her eyes filling with desperation.

            “Just promise me one thing,” I said before she could continue and make me even more tempted to agree. “When the news spreads in the morning you won’t believe everything you hear.”

            “It’s Voldemort, isn’t it; you’re going after him yourself! If that’s what it is then as a member of the Order I have every right—”

            “That’s not what it is at all, Emmeline,” I interjected firmly. “Please don’t ask questions. Promise me you won’t do anything rash and that you’ll stay right here.”

            “Sirius…” she said. Tears were once again running down her already tear stained cheeks, her voice was overflowing with anguish. The rain had also begun to come down on her, soaking her silky hair and mingling on her face with her tears. She rested her hands on my chest and grasped the collar of my jacket as if she were holding on to her last sliver of hope. “Please, let me come with you. I can fight! You know I can fight! James and Lily are gone…I don’t want to lose you too…not again…”

            I felt the invisible hand squeeze my heart again as I fought the urge to concede. Tempting as it was, I couldn’t bring her along just because I needed her near me. Even if the idea of life as a runaway with the girl I loved by my side was incredibly appealing, I couldn’t do that to her. She had plans…plans I’d never had and I could never bring myself to tear them away from her. No matter how much she cared for me and how much she was willing to give up, I knew her too well to know she could never live happily that way. 

            And the plans I had made for tonight were still vague even in my own mind. Death seemed to be the only prominent solution and I didn’t want her involved in it. Besides, it was impossible to know whether the night would end in my favor at all.

            “If I could explain, I would, believe me,” I said wiping away the mixture of rain and tears off her cheek with my thumb. “Perhaps later on you’ll understand.”

            She took a shaky breath before asking. “When will I see you again?”

            I felt a knot form in my throat. I myself had been avoiding that question from the moment I’d set forth to find her, and now that I was confronted with it, I felt my jaw lock out of my own fear of hearing the answer. 

Her eyes seemed to be searching mine for an answer, but I believe she found it in my silence. For a moment I marveled at her ability to read me with such ease. It had always blown me away, and I don’t believe I had ever grown completely accustomed to being understood without speaking…or being understood in any way, or at all. But Emmeline had always found a way. And just like before I could feel my heart swelling, expanding just to let a little more of her in.

            Without a word she enveloped me in a desperate hug, eager as I was to fill the void of five long years in just a handful of minutes. I buried my face in her hair and inhaled, taking in its scent one last time, wishing I could pocket it and carry it with me.

            I pulled back from our embrace and my mouth found hers with ease. And as I tasted her, my memory took me back to a frightful winter night, when we naively believed we could really have it all. It seemed as though her lips would always carry just the slightest bittersweet hint in them. And yet it did nothing to tame the hope in me, that perhaps this might not be the last; that someday our lips might meet in greeting and not just goodbyes.

            The instant we broke the kiss, my chest constricted with pain. I opened my eyes to find her sad but resolved, pressing her lips tightly together in order to fight more tears. 

“Don’t tell anyone I came to see you, all right?” I whispered, pressing my forehead to hers.

She nodded with some difficulty and I thought I saw her almost let her guard down as the corners of her mouth faltered and turned downward for just a second.

I stepped away from her and tried to ignore the moment in which my body was no longer in contact with hers.

And without further hesitation I kept moving, I kept walking; down the three brick steps leading up to her door, down the narrow brick bath that commenced at the black iron gate; away from her and the temptation to hold her again. The quicker the goodbye, the better. Or in any case, that’s what I was forcing myself to believe. 

But the night was growing colder, my breath sharper and my body heavier. Standing at the gate, my fingers wrapped against the cold, wet iron, I allowed myself to glimpse at her once more before completely closing the gate behind me.

She stood, with her arms wrapped around herself, hair clinging to the sides of her face, and a vision of her sixteen year old self crossed my mind, a memory I’d suddenly recovered from within the tangled mess of bitter memories inside my head: Emmeline standing before me under the cover of a dark, sleeping castle, drenched from head to toe in November rain. 

She stood firmer, turned her gaze away from me, as if not daring to look at me for the same reason I’d not dared stand beside her one moment longer. Her fingers loosely fumbled with the doorknob and after a deep breath, which I recognized as solemn resignation, she stepped inside and slowly closed the door.

I stared at the white door with its gilded knocker as rain pounded the streets all around me. It fell harder and faster, resounding all around me, hurrying me along. No use fighting my fate now. All that could be lost had been given up. I had nothing left to gamble; nothing to offer in exchange for an umpteenth chance. So at last I turned on the spot and set off to repay my debt.

**A/N:** So I’ve been working on this for a long time, and I don’t wanna say three years for fear of receiving a, “Really? Three years and that’s the best you came up with?” comment. But it is what it is, and I think I’ve held out long enough, so here it is. I have several other chapters ready, that might need some tweaking, but I guess I’ll see how this goes before I go posting the rest :) So leave some reviews and let me know if I’ve wasted my time, haha! *nervous drop of sweat slowly slides down temple*

**Songs I listened to while writing/editing this:** “Everything” by Lifehouse, “The Moon” by The Swell Season, and “Gravity” by Sara Bareilles 


	2. Chapter One

** Chapter One **

_Emmeline Vance_

_October 1976_

‘Pathetic’ was too small a word, even with its eight letters, to accommodate all the students at Hogwarts that I thought could perfectly fit its meaning. Still, it was the only word that I could find to describe this strange attitude students were developing. It was like an extremely contagious disease that was slowly taking over the female population.

It was always easy to tell when a person had caught the pathetic bug. The symptoms were almost always the same and always easy to recognize. For one, there was an irrational need to be vociferous. Usually, it was when the bearer of the disease was trying to get a specific individual’s attention (let’s call him “Subject One”). All of a sudden every word uttered became an exclamation. The most mundane of thoughts were announced at an obnoxious volume, while Subject One remained completely oblivious or simply uninterested.

The second symptom was that of the giggles – which should actually be considered the most obvious of symptoms. Especially if one had absolutely no good reason for giggling. Take for example, Layla Rimpleton, who just yesterday was asked for the time by Subject One and nearly giggled for three minutes before being able to answer him. After she managed to choke the words out, she continued to giggle and ran into the Great Hall to be vociferous about being asked the time by him.

Thirdly, a person suffering from the pathetic bug would appear to be stupid even though they possessed really sharp minds. Annette Abott, for instance, who was a Ravenclaw and the brightest girl of our year, was sadly taken by the pathetic bug. There wasn’t an answer the girl didn’t know, no potion she couldn’t concoct, no spell she couldn’t cast, no magical creature she couldn’t tame. Yet she managed to score a mere two O.W.L.s, simply because the teachers at Hogwarts had made the mistake of seating her behind Subject One during the final exams last year. Annette had done nothing but stare at the back of his head all throughout her exams. All of her exam papers, once handed in, had been blank except for her name (which she spelled Anna About), his initials in a corner decorated with tiny hearts, and drool – lots of drool. Perhaps the unluckiest girl afflicted by the pathetic bug, Annette would now have to repeat the fifth year.

Other common symptoms included loss of all eloquence, a sudden rush of blood to the face, irregular heartbeats, nausea and sweaty palms.

So far there wasn’t a concrete reason or cause for the sudden spread of this virus of sorts, except for the one common factor found in the people bearing the disease: a maddening, nearly blinding crush on Subject One…most often referred to as Sirius Black.

To confirm my hypothesis, the five third year girls sitting across from me in the Gryffindor common room were displaying these very symptoms. Although I was sitting well away from them, at a table near the staircase to the girls’ dormitories, I could hear all their nonsensical and ludicrous chatter. And I was certain that their recurrent, high pitched giggling that trended their discussion, could be heard several floors above and below us.

“I bumped into him this morning when I was going into the Great Hall,” said one of the girls as she sat Indian style on the carpet floor. “He asked me if I was okay, but honestly I was so caught off guard I stood there opening and closing my mouth.”

She added, sounding forlorn, “I really wish I’d said something.”

“I know what you mean.” The one sitting on the edge of the center table smoothed her already perfect hair her hand. “Last week, I tripped on the stairs and just as I picked myself up he came around the corner. If I’d lain on the steps just two seconds longer he could’ve helped me up!”

“If I’d been you, I would’ve tripped again on purpose!” giggled a third girl, who sat braiding the hair of the one sitting Indian style.

The one lounging on the armchair nearly burst before she blurted, “Earlier this evening he asked me what time it was!”

All five girls squealed excitedly. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly through my nostrils. How difficult would it be to sneak back into the library after closing hours? Frustrated, I went back to the first line of the paragraph I’d just been trying to read. Sooner or later the words were bound to start making sense.

But I was fighting a losing battle, as my overly active imagination now joined the five girls’ side. I found myself picturing the looks of devastation on their faces if Sirius were to show up one day sporting a wrist watch. What on earth would they ever use for a conversation starter then? Then I imagined the horde of girls conspiring to steal the watch and destroy it. All would wear khaki colored army uniforms and would be watching intently as their leader (in my mind it was the girl lounging on the armchair) slapped at a map of Europe vigorously with her wand. Her madness would show in her eyes, her hair would flap over her eyes as she gestured energetically; her black toothbrush mustache would glisten slightly with lip-gloss…

I bit down on my lip to stop myself from smiling at my own absurd thought and brought my head down closer to my notebook to ensure that I wouldn’t be seen.

“It was three thirty-seven!” she continued. “I wrote it down on the back of my journal, along with the date!”

“I saw him sneaking out with Mary McDonald last night around eight thirty,” said the girl who was braiding her friend’s hair.

The remaining four girls groaned just as my fingers squeezed the base of my quill tighter.

“Thanks for bringing her up, Nina. Now I feel sick. Just the thought of her makes me want to puke.” The girl lounging on the arm chair sat up straight.

I felt my fingers relax and was s thankful that she had requested that they move on to another topic. Although, I had to admit it bothered me that we’d both shared the same exact sentiment, when I had been inwardly mocking them all just moments ago. And while I had nothing personal against Mary McDonald, and the thought of her didn’t make me sick, I felt that I would feel more at peace if I didn’t have to hear about the details of her rendezvous with Sirius.

At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Mary McDonald. In the time that I’d known her, and during the few times in which we’d interacted, she hadn’t come across as ill-spirited. On the contrary, I found her to be really friendly and kind. If anything, I felt pity for her. Clearly, even the nicest and smartest of girls weren’t immune to Sirius’s charms. I couldn’t help feeling she could’ve done better than him.

Yet girls like the ones sitting across from me were so quick to chastise her even when she had done nothing to offend them. Or in the very least, she’d done nothing except become Sirius Black’s new girlfriend. And for that reason she had to put up with being gossiped about, finding her school bag oozing goat bile, a picture of her pinned to the bulletin board with red horns drawn on, among numerous other cruel things.

Come to think of it, lately when I passed her in the halls there seemed to be something odd about her. It was as if a light in her face had been switched off. She frowned more often, and once when she greeted me there was something forced about her smile.

Once when sitting by myself at the Gryffindor table, I looked over and thought she looked unfocused. Even though Sirius and his friends sat around her laughing and having a visibly merry time, Mary seemed often startled out of her thoughts. I even noticed she had picked up and odd habit of looking over her shoulder.

I sighed feeling sorry for her. Without a doubt, the reality of being Sirius Black’s new girlfriend was probably proving to be tougher than she could have imagined.

The girls’ voices grew louder again and I heard one of them call Mary by a name I’d once seen scratched unto a public bathroom wall in Diagon Alley. I scowled and tried to ignore them as they began their favorite game: who can bash Mary McDonald’s integrity the hardest? Who will make the nastiest assumption? Who will go as far as to wish her an ill fate plainly out of their ruthless jealousy? It didn’t matter. It was a contest where they all won, and where according to them they had the last laugh. They would say whatever they had to, to make themselves feel better about not being in Mary McDonald’s shoes. When in reality they were all desperately dying for a turn in them.

The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and the source of the contagion strode into the room. He was like a walking Silencing Charm cast on the group of girls across from me. In an instant they fell mute; surely all were holding their breath as he strode quickly in and rushed up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories.

As soon as he was out of earshot, the girls burst into a frenzy of muffled giggles. They and began whispering to each other. Some of their words were accented by their squeals, some shushed others form giggling too loud. I rolled my eyes. He hadn’t even spared them a glance, yet they were going on as if he had just proposed marriage to all of them. I looked back down at my notebook, my fingers tight around my quill, my other hand clenched into a fist as I realized that I too was holding my breath.

I exhaled. Closing my eyes, I tried to focus. All he had done was walk in the room. There was no need to make a big fuss about it. Surely, I wouldn’t react this way if anyone else walked into the common room.

_I’m not one of them_ , I said to myself. _I know better. I’m not—_

“Emmeline?”

My head jerked up and I saw him standing on the opposite side of the table looking at me. When had he come back down the staircase? Furthermore, why was he talking to me?

“Y-yes?” I asked, visibly flustered and desperate for a moment to recollect my quickly scattering thoughts. To him it might seem he had simply startled me, but to the five pairs of eyes glaring at me from across the room it meant something more, something only they could see with clarity.

I looked up at him and felt as though I might break into convulsions. Every breath I took in threatened to break my self-control. But I wasn’t about to let my nerves win. The only one who should suffer would be my poor innocent quill, which I was on the verge of cracking in two.

“Have you seen James?” he finally asked.

I looked up to meet his eyes for a moment and realized quickly what a big mistake this was. Something about his gray eyes was so captivating, so imposing one could not help but feel instantly intimidated. No matter how insignificant the question he was asking was, it always felt as though he were trying to see more, to read all your thoughts, to know all your secrets. Then again, perhaps this was simply my guilty conscience speaking.

My eyes flickered down to his chin. “No, I’m sorry I haven’t.”

‘No’ was such a simple answer. It took no effort to give a negative reply. Yet I found myself finding the longest way to answer just so I could have something more to say. And yet, even with a ‘no’ that lasted a for a whole five words, I felt as though I hadn’t said enough; as though I still had so much more I’d like to say.

“If you see him will you tell him I came looking?” he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“Sure,” I replied, forcing my smile to look polite and not agitated and tense as I gave him a heavy, reassuring nod.

“Thanks,” he said, but was walking away before he was even finished thanking me. He gave me a lazy wave and was soon bustling out of the common room just as quickly as he’d come in.

I exhaled at last, my shoulders drooping as I allowed my muscles to relax. My fingers loosened around my quill and I noticed their slight tremble. Staring down at my notebook I could see no words or lines but a play by play of the short scene that had just taken place. I thought of the moment I dared look in his eyes and felt a blush creeping up my face. And just as the increasing volume of a strange buzzing sound began to reach my ears, I looked up to see the group of five girls all whispering to each other. As they spoke; cupping a hand over their mouths, or speaking out of the side of their mouths, trying to keep their lips from moving; all five pairs of eyes gazed at me, all with a strange, almost menacing shine in them…like predators ready to pounce on their prey.

For the first time that night we all looked back at each other and I knew at once that I was about to be penalized simply because Sirius had chosen to speak to me and because I had allowed myself to be caught completely defenseless and unaware.

I looked away and swiftly began to gather up my books before hurriedly making my way up to my dormitory. Calling it an early night had never killed anyone; staying there a minute longer might.

The problem was that sometimes, when one caught the pathetic bug, there were no visible symptoms. Sometimes one could feel the bug circulating in one’s system, and one would try to repress it to avoid being considered a statistic. It was as simple as trying to hold back a cough and just as pointless. You can hold back all the coughs your body wants to produce and swallow hard through the tickling in your throat but in the end the bug is already circulating through your body and it will run its course at its leisure, whether you want to accept it to or not.

So was I as pathetic as the other hundreds of girls at Hogwarts suffering from the bug? Chances were the answer was, “Most indisputably, yes”. But what was worse, aside from being pathetic I was also a hypocrite and _there_ I found myself stretching over its nine letters completely and absolutely alone.

* * *

I had easily decided on the first week of our sixth year that Professor Slughorn must secretly hate me. Otherwise, why on earth would he ever ask Sirius to switch seats with Dedalus Diggle who had been my Potions partner for five years? Sure, Diggle had ruined ninety percent of my potions, eroded or exploded almost every cauldron I’d ever owned, and on one occasion set my fringe on fire. Still, somehow I had survived and had grown used to and even learned to predict Diggle’s follow up disasters.

And yet it all seemed manageable compared to having to endure every single Potions lesson with Sirius sitting, breathing, and simply existing beside me.

In spite of many years of near death experiences with Diggle beside me, it was Sirius who had finally pushed Professor Slughorn to the boiling point. After playing what seemed to be the millionth prank on Severus – Slughorn’s golden boy – and using a permanent sticking charm to glue his hands to his boiling hot cauldron, Slughorn had been inspired to split James and Sirius up. He thus sent Sirius to the back.

I’d sat there, the perfect picture of serenity, as I’d silently continued writing my notes. Then again if anyone had taken a closer look they might’ve seen the large splotch of ink I’d made on the page when I’d heard Slughorn say, “Mr. Black and Mr. Diggle – switch seats, please.”

It had taken me all the effort in my small body not to release every tensed nerve and scream at him, “HAVE YOU GONE MAD?”

But I didn’t. One inconspicuous intake of air and I was fine. Even if my heart raced inside me, I was completely in control. But as Sirius approached our table, brooding, throwing his bag down and slouching in his chair, I wondered: For how long?

It shouldn’t have to be so difficult. After all, Sirius Black was just a regular boy. A boy made of flesh and bone, that lives and breathes and talks and walks like any other boy.

Or at least, that was what I so persistently tried to convince myself of every single day, as I slowly yet fretfully made my way to Potions class. But then I would walk into the classroom and find him already sitting leisurely in his chair next to mine, his raven hair falling lazily into his eyes, tapping both ends of his wand unto the surface of his desk, looking as though he had a million better things he’d rather be doing than acquiring an education. His eyelids would rise to see me approaching and that was when my all my self-confidence would desert me and I was once again subdued by the enigma of his power over me.

I couldn’t quite place the reason he had this effect on me. I thought perhaps it was intimidation, but then again I wasn’t scared of him. Fear wasn’t what I felt. It was more like I became stumped and completely forgot how to act normally around him; as if I’d never been around other humans before.

Being social came a little harder for me than most girls my age, who could credibly laugh at anything even if it wasn’t funny at all. I didn’t know how to feel comfortable around someone with whom I wasn’t already comfortable with. And when Sirius was around, this particular aspect of my personality was amplified. Thousands of conversational topics ran through my head and none seemed interesting enough. At least, until my moment to speak had passed, at which point I would regret not having said anything. When I did speak, I immediately wished I could take back all my words, or that I could phrase them differently, or even wish I hadn’t said anything at all.

But more than just the way I acted, I also became more self-conscious about my appearance. Being around him made me aware of stray hairs around my head, of my tone of voice, the scent of my breath, the abundance of the freckles non grata permanently dwelling on my cheeks and nose. He made me scared of myself, of not being good enough or perfect enough. And for someone who regularly fixed her bangs so that not a hair was out of place, who arranged her books inside her bag in a very strict system of biggest to smallest, the realization that someone outside of myself could make me feel these things was an astonishing discovery and a very big deal.

Perhaps my awkwardness around him came from a place where my lack of social skills was overpowered by his self-confidence. After all, the boy exuded it out of every pore of his body. He seemed unafraid of anything, as if he were unbreakable or perfectly invulnerable.

It was something about the way he carried himself, the way when he walked into a room he seemed to own it. The way he spoke like he knew what he was talking about and no one doubted if he did. Even when he laughed, the way he threw his head back and laughed loud and clear; there were no hesitations there, no second guesses, no insecurities. It seemed he always managed to have the last laugh, whatever the situation was; he never questioned his own motives. He and his three best friends never hesitated whenever the opportunity to raise havoc in Hogwarts arose. He knew he could pull off anything he wanted to, get away with it and walk away smiling. These things and more made everyone want to be him or be with him.

Then, of course, if you were to take a survey of all the girls at Hogwarts and asked them what it was about Sirius that made everyone around him lose their ability to think straight they’d all coincide, unanimously, on one thing: Sirius Black was ridiculously handsome. Even at an age when most people fought with nuisances like acne, bad teeth or even frizzy hair, Sirius Black had been blessed with good genes. His face was smooth and perfectly clean. He had an even set of pearly white teeth, and a compelling, almost bewitching smile. He knew exactly how and when to flash it if he wanted something particularly hard to get. On a windy day his black wavy hair didn’t ruffle; it simply played in the wind. If a single lock of hair on his head was ever to find itself out of place it would pretend that that was exactly where it belonged.

But most of all, it was that come hither stare that came so naturally to him. I never could tell whether he was purposely turning it on. Two steel gray eyes, deep set under a pair of sculpted black eyebrows. Just add a haughty mouth, with lips that seldom smiled unless in mockery and a long pointed aristocratic nose to remind you of the aristocrat he is, and you had a face that you knew you should not love; a face that, to the logical mind, should be a warning to stay away. No good could ever come from something so alluringly beautiful. Surely there had to be some kind of compensation, something to balance this heavy beautiful side of his out. And naturally it would have to be as dark as his beauty was light.

Otherwise he’d be too good to be true.

Maybe that’s why fate, or life, or whoever it is that gets to decide these things, settled on making him beautiful outside and rotten on the inside. It was the only way to explain why Sirius was a jerk, who took what he wanted when he wanted, and did whatever he pleased when he pleased without so much regard or consideration for who he might be hurting in the process. He was as arrogant as an entire stadium filled with Quidditch fans whose team had just won. And the same confidence which made him seem almost admirable was the same that made you want to stick your foot out to trip him as he passed by.

Sirius came from one of England’s oldest, richest families, and he and his three best friends were inseparable and untouchable. He was ridiculously coveted by women and envied by men and for these reasons he had no good excuse for being the demanding, insolent little creep that he was. Obviously, he was one of those cases where he’d grown to be jaded, so bored by his perfect life that his only form of entertainment was to torture and harass anyone who’d let him.

It would be easy to be distracted by his appearance and turn a blind eye to this side of him. But I chose to cling to it. It was my antidote, the only thing that could keep me from being another victim. In order to stay sane and not become one more of the many, I needed to constantly remind myself of the truth: Sirius Black was no good for anyone.

It was a day to day struggle. I had no choice but to see him every day, especially now that he was my Potions partner. And every time I felt my confidence falter, I had to wonder: was I really as shallow as all the horde of girls who fawned over him?

Well, perhaps ‘fawn’ wasn’t a word that suited me particularly; I was less enthusiastic than the others, keeping it all secretly hidden in my head. I didn’t even have a diary to vent it all out in. Dorcas Meadows had been a prime example of why this was a bad idea, having had her own secret wishes for Sirius’s affection ridiculed by all of the Hogwarts population. Even Professor Flitwick had been caught snickering at one of the pages James had so thoughtfully duplicated for anyone who was curious and cruel enough to read.

Even if I dared give it enough thought, rather than ignore it as I’d been doing since the day I’d discovered these feelings crawling around inside me like an infection, I came up blank. All I was certain of was that I didn’t want this. I hated becoming so surprised and flustered whenever he unexpectedly entered a room I was already in, having to constantly be on my guard, to force myself to act naturally. I hated giving this much thought and attention to someone who didn’t deserve it.

So I ended up avoiding him, because it was easier to avoid feeling anything for him when he wasn’t around.

It’s not like it was hard. We never spent that much time around each other, except for the times when I bumped into him in the Gryffindor common room or ran into him between classes. Unless he had a last minute assignment to finish and no one to borrow the books from, or perhaps an inquiry as to where James had gone, I was virtually nonexistent to him. Other than that I’d never had his full attention (or his presence for that matter) to myself for longer than it took a body to realize it had gone without oxygen for too long.

Until now…

My bangs flew upwards and my heart raced. I struggled to keep myself in check. I was still sitting in Potions class, still writing(‘Thepoperproperties ofBloomslamBoomslang skin are theSiriusfollowing…’), still breathing, still trying to ignore him – the latter two becoming more and more difficult as time passed. I felt his breath fall lightly on my face as my bangs flew upwards for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch as I fought an oncoming smile. Again, I could feel the timeless fight begin inside me, as two separate sides of me argued over how to handle it:

_Make him stop!_

_Oh, you like it…_

_No! No, you don’t! Do not be subdued!_

_But it feels good…_

_Damn it, Emmeline!_

My eyes flickered towards him. He noticed. But he couldn’t have cared much since he blew on my bangs again and smiled. Could he really not have any idea what his little game was doing to me?

Barely fifteen minutes into Potions class and Professor Slughorn already had to rush Diggle to the Hospital wing. Diggle, who was the only human I knew with the ability to trip on air, had done his handy work on his way to the back of the class for a spare book. This might seem insignificant, but I’d known Diggle long enough to know disaster lurked behind every step he took. Even worse if he tripped. So I wasn’t the least bit surprised when he landed on a case laden with Potions ingredients in glass jars. Covered from head to toe in slime, dust and several different herbs, it was only a matter of seconds before he began sprouting leaves from his arms and legs.

I felt no pity for Professor Slughorn as he sputtered incomplete thoughts instructing us to find the different parts of Boomslangs while he was gone. I knew that if Diggle had still been sitting beside me, this never would’ve happened. Or at least, there had been better chances of avoiding it. Either way, as soon as Slughorn was out of earshot the class quickly became more occupied with practicing their social skills than with the assignment.

I chose to start my work rather than make chit chat with my new partner. This was my technique of avoidance – to look busy. Besides, what could we possibly talk about? Class time was hardly a time to socialize and get to know a person, and in the time that Sirius and I had been Potions partners, conversations had been mostly about rat tails, Boomslang skin, and other gross things of the sort. Most of them started by him – out of boredom I’m sure – only to find them ended abruptly by me. I figured it was only natural to find yourself at a more unusual loss of words when speaking to a person who you could hardly allow yourself to look at.

However, it seemed Sirius found it quite easy to make himself comfortable around someone. I don’t even think that it was a conscious decision. As it was his nature to go about the world as though he owned it, I’m sure it was hardly any work at all talking to someone as unimportant to him as I was.

He blew on my bangs once more but this time his breath fell on my neck sending chills down my spine.

“Could you please stop?” I finally said, hoping I sounded more serious than I felt.

“Not until you pick a card,” he said, shoving a stack of playing cards my way.

“I already told you I wouldn’t.”

“And somehow you think that’s going to make me stop trying?”

_Grab the card,_ I heard a voice inside my head say. _You know you want to…_

“I’ve got work to do,” I eyed his closed books out of the corner of my eye. “And so do you.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I could teach this class.”

I rolled my eyes but secretly thanked him. That obnoxious comment was all I needed to help me stay focused.

“So pick a card,” he insisted.

“No.”

“Come on, it’s very simple, Em, you just reach over with your hand and—”

As he was saying this he reached over and picked up my hand. Alarmed by the sudden contact, I yanked my hand away impulsively.

Sirius frowned. “I don’t have cooties, you know.”

I swallowed hard and I could feel my face growing red. “I-I know. I’m just not…it’s just a thing…”

A thing were some stupid unreasonable part of me feared he’d be able to read how I felt if he touched me.

“Well, it was rude,” he said.

“I’m sorry—” I began.

“You hurt my feelings,” he added.

“I really didn’t mean—”

“So now to make it up to me, you’re going to have to pick a card.”

I looked up at him midsentence to find him grinning smugly at me. And then the stupid smile that had been fighting so hard to breakthrough before finally did.

I sighed. “You promise to quit bothering me if I do?”

“Sure.” He flashed me a suspicious smirk that told me otherwise.

_Ignore it,_ I thought. _Ignore the smile. Don’t look at it. Just grab the stupid card and get it over with._

“Fine,” I said, reaching out and pulling a card from the stack. I looked at it and it was the three of hearts.

“Your card is the ace of spades,” he said, smiling.

“Nope,” I said flipping the card around for him to see. “Sorry.”

He smirked. “Look again.”

I turned the card in my hand again. He was right.

“Nice trick. I’m sure if wasn’t a witch I’d be more impressed,” I said sliding the card over to his side of the desk before picking up my quill again.

“You’re no fun,” he said. My stomach twisted when he said this. It probably didn’t mean much coming from him, but it seemed to strike a nerve in me. I tried to convince myself that him saying this meant I’d done good; I’d managed to push him off. But then why couldn’t I shake this heavy feeling of regret?

He turned in his seat and rocked it on its two hind legs. “Violet, dear, would you like to pick a card?”

“Do I get to shove it up your ass?” Violet retorted. My eyebrows shot up in awe.

If I hadn’t known better I would’ve thought Violet Caldwell was immune to Sirius’ charms, but I knew in reality this was simply the aftermath effect of her short-lived whirlwind romance, ended abruptly by Sirius during the last term of our fifth year. For about three months before the school year was over, it had been Violet who’d eagerly clung to Sirius’ side…and every other part of his body. It had been her vandalized picture up on the common room bulletin board last March. It had also been her bag oozing with goat bile. But Violet had not wasted a moment’s worry over it. In a matter of days three third year girls had shown up one morning at the Great Hall will nasty red boils spelling the word “SLUT” across their faces.

Violet never admitted to it but I heard her smugly inform them, as she passed them on her way out, that she preferred that they draw purple horns on her picture instead of red next time. It complimented the blue hue of her eyes much better.

But by the time June rolled around, Violet no longer had to worry about having to defend herself against jealous Sirius groupies. For reasons still unknown to most of us, Sirius ended it with her on the last day of exams. No one knew what he said, or what he’d done, but it was quite clear to everyone, as she blasted him almost halfway across the grounds, a tree breaking his flight, that it was now safe for students in their first year to walk around the castle without the need of an older person to cover their eyes.

“Darling as usual,” Sirius responded. “Anyone ever tell you you’re as friendly as a Blast-Ended Skrewt?”

“As often as you’ve been told that you’re as tactful as a Manticore, I’m sure.”

“Manticores are respected beasts, so I thank you for that compliment,” Sirius said completely unperturbed.

“I only meant the beast part,” Violet said through gritted teeth, obviously having a much more difficult time keeping her temper down than Sirius was.

Thankfully, Professor Slughorn walked into the classroom just then, wiping his forehead with a white handkerchief. He threw a quick wary glance around the classroom, mostly towards the two ends where Sirius and James sat, trying to ensure that everything was still in its place before allowing himself to breathe easily.

“Alright class,” he began as he stepped up behind his desk in front of the class. “Mr. Diggle is being taken care of by Madam Pomfrey. She’s trimming off his branches as we speak and has administered him a potion that will ensure he doesn’t continue sprout them.”

“Sounds like he’d be a lot more useful to everyone if they simply stuck him in a hole out on the grounds,” I heard Sirius mutter. I flashed him a quick glare that went completely unnoticed.

“Does anyone know what that particular potion is called?” asked Professor Slughorn eagerly, while he stuffed his handkerchief back into the pocket of his robes.

“A Surculus Unction,” I said under my breath. Sirius must’ve have heard me since I noticed him turning his head slightly in my direction.

“Surculus Unction!” exclaimed Lily Evans throwing her hand up in the air but not waiting for Professor Slughorn to call on her.

Professor Slughorn smiled brightly. “Very good, Ms. Evans! Five points to Gryffindor!”

Lily beamed in her chair, in the row of desks next to ours, while I bowed my head and smiled wistfully to myself. I was startled when I felt a strange pounding under my chair. I twisted in my seat to look at Frank Longbottom who had not yet learned the subtlety of tapping someone on their shoulder.

“You almost let Snape get that one!” he said in a loud whisper.

“That is absolutely correct,” added Professor Slughorn as I turned right back around without responding. “As your assignment for tomorrow, class, I want you to look up the properties of the Surculus Unction, all the ingredients needed to concoct it and name the purpose for each ingredient. I want no less than five feet of parchment on the subject.”

The sound of paper rustling quickly filled the classroom as students began to flip pages in their notebooks in order to jot the assignment down. Sirius didn’t seem to think it important to make notes since he simply continued to rock on his chair.

“Also, I have some very exciting news for us today; can anyone guess what it is?” Professor Slughorn asked, ogling the classroom cheerfully with his hands in his pockets as he rolled over the balls of his feet.

Everyone was busy writing the assignment. I felt my heart race as I half raised my hand in the air. “Is it the Potions Challenge, Sir?” I asked hopefully.

“Indeed it is, Ms. Vance!” exclaimed Professor Slughorn and several people in the class groaned.

“That one didn’t win us any points,” I heard Frank mumble behind me and I smiled.

“Yes, it’s that time of year again!” said Professor Slughorn as he magically began to write instructions on the blackboard by waving his wand in front of it.

“Are we really going to have to do this every year?” Sirius moaned. No need to ask him what his feelings were about it.

“The rules are the same as always,” announced Professor Slughorn, as his neat cursive handwriting began to fill the blackboard. “You must work with the person sitting next to you – trading partners is not allowed, Mr. Potter!” (Slughorn said this when James had turned to wave at Sirius) “You must concoct a potion of your choice. Seeing as you are sixth years now and about to sit your N.E.W.T.s in two years I expect your work to be at a higher level than it has been for the past five years; the more complex your potion is the better your chances are of winning.

“No illegal potions are allowed,” he continued. “No testing on humans. You may get your ingredients from the cupboards in the back but remember to always make a record of what you take. Each team will be allowed one hour each day in this classroom to work on their potion. At the end of the class I will have a list of hours for each team posted on the board. The potions will be secured in the wooden cabinet in the back and can only be opened with your chosen password to reveal only the potion you and your teammate have been working on. Sabotaging and cheating are extremely forbidden and dire actions will be taken if I find out any one has done so.”

“Are the prizes still the same?” asked James, not bothering to raise his hand to ask the question.

“Yes, yes!” said Professor Slughorn. “First prize gets two non-Hogsmeade weekend passes to Hogsmeade plus fifty points to their House. Second prize is a very exclusive invitation to my next party and twenty-five points to their House. Third prize is fifteen points to their House.”

“Third prize sounds a lot better than second prize if you ask me,” muttered Sirius.

“I really don’t see what the point of this stupid challenge is,” said Violet from behind Sirius. “We already know Snape and Lily are going to take first and second place.”

“Actually, I think Emmeline has a very good chance of winning this year, now that Sirius is her partner and not Diggle,” said Frank.

“Sirius and James never exactly won first place either,” Violet said and by the edgy tone of her voice I could tell this was more of an attack towards Sirius than a casual statement.

“We could’ve but we never actually wanted to,” Sirius retorted.

“Oho, of course you didn’t!” Violet exclaimed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t have your eyes on those free passes to Hogsmeade at all! Disgusting things they are!

“Besides, you’ve always preferred second place haven’t you? Or third, I should say, since Lily and Snape have taken turns getting first and second all these years. But thanks for the fifteen house points though!”

I thought I could see a muscle in Sirius’s jaw clenching mechanically.

Frank must’ve noticed it too since I heard him say, (clearly trying to steer the conversation in a different direction), “At least he got placed. Emmeline’s experiences with Diggle have been nothing but disastrous these past years. I’ve heard horror stories less scary than those that involve Diggle helping Em with any Potion.”

“Diggle was a perfectly good Potions partner,” I said, feeling that it was my place to stick up for Diggle who had more pressing matters to worry about at the moment.

“Oh please!” Frank said. “He was keeping you back! All those times you were on the right track he managed to do something to ruin your potion!”

“Accidents happen, Frank,” I said.

“True,” said Frank casually. He then added, “except Diggle doesn’t cause accidents. He causes catastrophes.”

The corner of my mouth twitched for a second as I forced myself to maintain a serious front.

“First year for example, you attempted to concoct Polyjuice Potion, do you remember what happened?” he continued. I felt Sirius’s eyes on me and Frank as he listened carefully to our conversation.

“I remember quite clearly what happened, Frank,” I began, finding that I was speaking calmly but through my teeth and that the muscles in my neck were suddenly very tight. “There is no need to re—”

“He knocked your cauldron over before Professor Slughorn could even have a look at it on judging day,” he interrupted.

I exhaled heavily through my nostrils and kept staring straight forward.

“Tripped on his own shoelace, didn’t he?” Frank asked and Sirius chuckled beside me.

“A trademark move from Diggle. He did it again in our fourth year remember? When you concocted the Aging Potion?” Frank continued and Sirius chuckled just a little louder.

“Frank—” I tried again, very aware that all the blood in my body was now circulating only around my face.

“In your second year, you tried your hand with the Swelling Solution. Fairly simple; you basically did all the work and you were sure to win. That is until Diggle sneezed all over it and then decided to magically extract the remnants of his sneeze from the potion. You told him they’d have no effect and to leave it alone, but when he tried it, what happened?”

“Frank, I remember, but could you please stop—” I said but my voice had become considerably smaller, and it would have been very difficult to hear my pleading, even if Sirius hadn’t just burst into a hysterical guffaw.

“I remember that!” he said excitedly. My ears burned now and I sank just a little lower into my chair. “Whatever incantation he used, it didn’t work, did it? And instead of extracting anything from the potion he caused it to splatter all over you and him! Didn’t one of your ears grow like ten times its size?”

I heaved a great sigh while staring at the wooden surface of my desk. Sirius never even waited for a confirmation, he ventured right back into his chortle, and even Frank, from the familiar chuckle I could hear coming from behind me, was having a jolly good time as they both went down the most unflattering and embarrassing moments of my personal memory lane.

Sirius was laughing so hard now that several students had stopped writing to look in our direction. I slid just a tad inch lower into my chair and began to silently pray that the bell would ring soon.

Just then there was a very sudden loud screeching noise to my right and I could see, out of my peripherals and in synch to the noise, Sirius slowly tumbling backwards and out of sight. As the loud clattering of his chair hitting the marble floor and the loud bang of his head colliding with the edge of Violet’s desk reached my ears, I whipped my head around quickly to look. Violet had pulled her desk back and in turn, had made Sirius – who had still been rocking on the two hind legs of his chair and using her table as support – topple backwards and unto the floor.

The laughter that broke out amongst the rest of our classmates was irrepressible and merciless. I myself had to press my lips tightly together in order to stop myself from releasing the giggles that were building up in my throat.

“Mr. Black!” bellowed Professor Slughorn from the front of the class. “Am I going to have to put a Permanent Sticking charm on that chair of yours?”

The students laughed even harder as Sirius slowly brought himself up to his elbows, massaged the back of his head with his hand and finally pushed himself up to his feet. He threw Violet such a fiery death glare that she should’ve combusted on the spot. Violet, however, sat gasping for air, both hands covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably, her face turning a blazing shade of red, as she giggled madly behind Sirius.

“See, Emmeline,” said Violet, having contained her laugher slightly but still bursting into short giggling fits here and there as she spoke. “That’s how you turn the tables on a prat like Sirius. When he’s laughing at you, you get everyone else to laugh at him instead. So you can relax now – Sirius won’t be finding anything humorous about you or anyone else for a while.”

Sirius slumped into his chair and hunched over his book. I didn’t get a good look at his face from this angle, but from the dark red color his ears and neck had obtained, it was safe to say that he was fuming. In fact, he was so red that I was surprised he wasn’t the one combusting on the spot just from angry heat.

“Aw, Sirius, are you upset?” Violet asked sardonically, before giggling again. “Don’t worry; I’m sure Mary McDonald will make it all better after class. That is, if she can stop laughing long enough to comfort you.”

I held my breath. For the past four weeks, Sirius and Violet had bickered incessantly. Sometimes she provoked him, and sometimes he provoked her. On several occasions, Sirius had left the classroom with notes stuck to his back; notes that would imply in very crude ways that Sirius wasn’t into females anymore; notes which, if I found that Violet wasn’t looking, I’d quickly tear off his back and dispose off after leaving the classroom. A move that did not improve the situation after the one time in which Sirius caught me and I’d had to explain what exactly it was that I doing with a note like that in my hands. Said explanation had prompted Sirius into retaliating by hexing Violet’s hair purple on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and then green on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

But their private war (or not so private since Frank and I were constantly being thrown in the middle) did not stop there. It expanded as Violet hexed Sirius’s shoelaces together, and he zapped a huge boil unto the middle of her forehead that was ridiculously hard to get rid of (the second time he missed and got Frank instead – who later made me search in all my Potions and Herbology books for an antidote). When Violet wouldn’t stop arguing or taunting him into an argument, he’d conjure a bubble around her head, blocking out any sound coming from her mouth. Violet would then respond by conjuring a pillowcase on his head. Depending on how bad the argument as, sometimes she’d make it a plastic bag.

On one occasion I’d gone up to Professor Slughorn after class to request that I be switched to a different seat. Sirius and Violet were too much of a distraction. Sirius, by himself, sitting next to me, without doing or saying anything at all, was too much of a distraction. My concentration was failing, and I knew I needed to get away so that I could focus more on my work. Potions was my favorite, best and most important subject, I could not allow myself to slack on it. But as I stood behind Professor Slughorn while he wiped the blackboard clean, I found that I could not open my mouth to even get his attention. I thought about going back to having no Sirius Black in my life, even if just for the two periods a day that I spent with him, and I felt my stomach clench tightly inside of me. Professor Slughorn had turned around and looked at me bemusedly.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Vance?” he’d asked. But my lips had sealed themselves and refused to let the words out. So I’d said something completely incoherent about the homework assignment and then walked away feeling sheepish and utterly stupid for being so weak, but only after having to hear a discourse on why lacewing flies had to be stewed for twenty-one days – something I had known since I’d been a first year.

Now I feared that I was soon about to have my head accidentally hexed to twice its size, and I wondered to myself: was it worth it?

Sirius sat up straight very suddenly. He turned to me and I could see from the corner of my eye that the fury had left his face. He smiled and said, “Hey, Em?”

I looked up from my book at him, my heart skipping several beats, singing at the top of its voice and in a childish tune, “ _It’s worth it! It’s worth it!_ ”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to meet tonight at seven, in the common room, so that we can get started on our potion?” he asked me. Something about the serenity in his voice warned me to be cautious. It wasn’t normal. Wasn’t it past due time for him to turn around and change Violet’s hair to purple?

“Um…s-sure…” I replied, not being able to help my slight frown.

“I think I’ll like to see Violet’s face when we win first prize,” he added, leaning back leisurely into his chair and folding his arms over his chest. “Do you perhaps own a camera? I think I’d like to take a picture.”

I looked away smiling feebly. I’d been right. Sirius could not have shown interest in anything unless there was something in it for him in the end. My heart quit singing. This was just as bad as having my head grown to twice its size.

I allowed myself to throw a look over my shoulder at Violet, who I thought might be rolling her eyes, sneering, or coming up with her follow up retort. But to my surprise, she was smiling to herself, looking rather pleased as if she had accomplished something. The bell then rang and a general scraping of chair legs against the marble floor resounded in the classroom. I picked up my books and threw one last glance at Sirius, who was eyeing Violet over his shoulder as she walked away, not with a scowl, not even with concern, but with that same pleased look she’d worn. I decided I’d seen and heard enough so I picked up my bag and headed out of the classroom.

Soon Frank was at my side and as we walked together to our next class, he asked, “So what Potion are you and Sirius going to make?”

“I don’t know,” I replied sulkily.

“All these new possibilities have opened up to you now! You can make whatever you want!”

“I guess.”

“Hey, how much time do you think you and Sirius will be spending together tonight, I wanted to go over some Herbology stuff.”

It was only then that it hit me: Sirius and I would be spending time alone together outside of Potions class. My heart began singing again but then stopped abruptly as it froze. Panic usually had its very unique way of shutting it up.

The day seemed to purposely prolong itself. It was as though clocks everywhere started ticking backwards the moment Sirius set a time for us to meet. It didn’t help that I kept checking every clock in each of our classes, with an obsessive, maniacal devotion. I knew that time would not go faster if I stopped to watch the seconds hand move, but I was doing it compulsively. Then, in the few moments when I wasn’t around a clock, I would constantly ask Frank for the time. My nagging was as intense as his curiosity, but not stronger than my secrecy, so that at last he grew exasperated, took his watch off and Vanished it.

That certainly didn’t stop me. I went to Diggle eagerly pointing to his wristwatch, asking for the time. Imagine my amusement when he dug into his robe’s pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. He duly complied, but I was far too perplexed to register any of what he said.

At six-seventeen, not a minute more or a minute less, I saw Sirius in the Great Hall sitting down at the Gryffindor table for dinner. I hoped to catch his eye as I walked in; perhaps he would glance my way, give a nod in recognition, or a thumbs-up letting me know we were still on in forty-three minutes. Alas, but not surprisingly, he never even twitched my way.

From where I sat, I could see that Peter was keeping a narration going with his food securely stored in his cheek like a chipmunk. I could hear very little of what he was saying but it must’ve been hilarious because James chuckled out loud, Remus shook his head slowly and Sirius hunched over his plate, shoulders shaking with laughter. Mary McDonald was right beside Sirius, in the spot Violet had very proudly possessed for the earlier part of the year. She smiled along but I couldn’t help noticing that even while she smiled, her eyes showed no gleam of hilarity. In fact, I noticed how they continuously darted over to where Violet was sitting not too far away from them.

Violet and her best friend Marlene McKinnon were too engrossed in their own conversation to acknowledge their presence. Or in the least, they were very good at pretending not to care. However, five years of having shared a dormitory with those two had given me enough insight to know that they were probably gossiping ardently and heartlessly about Mary McDonald. As of late it was all they could ever talk about. They didn’t even try to hide it unless she was around; but I think that they found more pleasure in trying to make her guess what they were saying. All they had to do was speak a few significant words aloud to get her attention and the trick was as effective as waterboarding.

Frank and I finally sat down at the table and I found, once I had dinner placed in front of me, that I wasn’t very hungry. I picked at my food, stabbing one pea at a time with my fork and placing each in my mouth to give the appearance of eating. Frank kept the conversation going mostly on his own, I’ll admit. While he related another anecdote inspired by his mother, I mostly nodded and gave one worded answers. Every time he paused I made sure to look at him and smile before throwing an inconspicuous glance at Diggle’s wristwatch.

After some time had passed, Sirius leaned into Mary and whispered something in her ear. Either he was whispering something suggestive or he was blowing steam into her ear because her face turned bright red. He then stood up, took Mary’s hand in his, and she followed eagerly but timidly so. She looked back and waved at Sirius’ friends and soon disappeared beyond the doors of the Great Hall with him. Diggle’s watch now read six thirty-two, at which point I dropped my fork with a clank on the plate. Frank looked up at me befuddled as I quickly grabbed my bag and through a mouthful of peas told him I had to go set up a study place in the common room.

Without further explanation I left him eating dinner with Diggle and I practically galloped all the way to the Gryffindor common room. I barged in, with my heavy bag swinging around me, and looked around hoping to see Sirius, but of the many familiar faces that turned curiously to witness my madness, none was his.

I grinned sheepishly and gave an awkward wave. “Evening everyone,” I said. I then hastily turned my back on the room and exhaled, trying to calm down. It was only six thirty-seven, after all. Perhaps he was off with Mary and would be back by seven. I didn’t dare imagine what Sirius could be doing with Mary at that particular moment; it would only make me queasy. Instead, I focused on setting up a table with books I’d borrowed earlier from the library. I formed two neat stacks of four books each on the table. I took a seat on one side of the table and then debated with myself about whether it would be better for Sirius to sit next to me, or merely adjacent, at the head of the table. Finally, I decided that adjacent would be best, and should I need a bigger distraction I could always sit at the other end of the table.

So I placed a blank notepad on the table, in front of what was to be his seat, and then one in front of mine. I sat a quill by each of our notepads, a bottle of ink between us to share, pencils, erasers, rulers, and colored pens – all stacked neatly from largest to smallest. It was only when I was done and stepped back to look at the table that I realized how neurotic it all looked. My eyes widened in horror and I quickly fumbled with the pens, tilted the books, and scattered them around the table in order to make everything less neat.

The clock above the fireplace read five past seven. In all my hustle and bustle I’d forgotten to keep track of the time. Finally, I took my seat and gazed longingly at the hole behind the portrait of the Fat Lady as if Sirius were about to walk through it at any second. The portrait on the other side swung open, my heart jumped and I sat up straighter. Frank’s familiar face smiled at me. He waved as he came through before heading up the staircase to the boys’ dormitories. I smiled meekly back and felt my entire body slowly crashing after the previous jolt.

This kept up for at least the first half hour. As the evening got darker, more and more students were coming back to the common room, and with every single swing of the portrait my heart picked up speed and beat hopefully inside my chest. It was only when the clock chimed eight O’clock, and with Sirius still nowhere to be seen, that my body finally stopped reacting to the swinging of the portrait as it opened up to let someone new in.

Something must’ve come up. After all, he’d been the one to suggest we meet in the common room, not the other way around. He wanted to prove Violet wrong, so he had a motive that was meaningful to him. If I knew one thing about Sirius it was that he wasn’t going to rest easy until he’d had the last laugh. He wouldn’t just forget, would he? A pang of panic crossed my chest as I thought of all the possible reasons as to why Sirius was not on time. None were any good. Either he’d gotten in some sort of trouble or had simply forgotten. Or worse – he’d remembered but had decided it couldn’t possibly be that important.

I picked up a quill and decided I needed a distraction. If I started doing some of the work perhaps some of the excitement should return to me. Time would pass by quicker, Sirius would soon show up and we would soon start working on our potion. Tomorrow I’d laugh how silly and paranoid I’d been.

The distraction worked just at it should, but it was only a half hour later when I finally looked at the clock again and realized that Sirius had still not shown his face in the common room. I twisted my quill around in my hands and waited until the clock ticked eight forty-five before going up to James, who sat across the room with Remus and Peter, to ask if he knew where Sirius could possibly be.

“He was supposed to meet me here at seven so that we could start working on our potion,” I explained, and while I felt that indignation should’ve been the commanding emotion at that particular moment, I couldn’t help feeling embarrassed and slightly humiliated as I stood there, two hours after the set time, inquiring about Sirius’s whereabouts. No doubt these three boys would find it all comical, as soon as I walked away, that I had actually been naïve enough to wait for Sirius for two hours. It was slowly starting to sink in how pathetic and pointless all my work and preparations had been.

Peter’s eyes widened and before James could reply, he blurted out, “The Potion’s Challenge! I completely forgot about that! Remus, when is it due? What are we going to do? We’re going to fail, aren’t we! I’m so sorry!”

“Relax, Pete,” Remus said calmly. “It isn’t due for another month. I’ll let you know when it’s your turn to do something.”

I brought my attention back to James who was looking at me with a mixture of apprehension and pity. “I’m sorry, Emmeline, I honestly don’t know. I saw him heading somewhere with Mary McDonald but I couldn’t tell you where they went or when they’ll be back.”

“I could tell you what they’re doing,” added Peter snickering and Remus elbowed him in an attempt to correct his indiscretion.

I swallowed hard right as my stomach turned nauseatingly inside of me. “Thanks, James,” I said forcing a small smile on my face. I turned around and headed back towards my table.

It wasn’t like I needed Peter to clue me in. I had known, hadn’t I? From the moment Sirius had walked out of the Great Hall holding Mary’s hand, I’d known, in some deep, slow and stubborn part of my brain what Sirius had gone to do…and that perhaps what he was doing would make him forget all about his meeting with me.

Coming back to my table, looking at all the books laying upon it, the place I’d set up for him still untouched, my own notepad already filled with notes, I couldn’t help but feel utterly stupid. I knew better than to get carried away; I knew better than to allow myself to become overwhelmed with the prospect of spending time with Sirius Black…so how could I have possibly let myself fall so low in so little time?

Two years of collected poise and in a matter of minutes, with just a few words, Sirius had managed to wrap me around his finger, and what was worse, I’d allowed myself to bend so easily!

There was a knot in my throat that I was trying to dislodge. I told myself there was no reason to cry. It was nothing out of the ordinary to be stood up by Sirius, unless you were part of his clique. If you weren’t, there wasn’t a prayer on earth that could save you from being completely insignificant to him. And no matter how many Potions classes I got through with him sitting beside me, I would never be part of his clan. I would never even be a subset of his clique. I didn’t want anything to do with his clan! Or him! And this – _this_ – was the very reason! Because Sirius would never come to terms with the fact that sometimes the outcome of his unprocessed and ill considered actions affected other people around him, and could he care less? Obviously not!

My nostrils flared as I exhaled hard and began to pile all my books together. I shoved some in my bag and left the most necessary ones outside. I picked up his blank notepad and shoved it forcefully inside my bag, as if the possibility of damaging it could somehow make him feel an ounce of the anger and humiliation I was feeling at that moment. I sat down on a new seat, with my back to the rest of the common room – namely, James, Remus and Peter – and I picked up my work where I left off. Fighting back angry tears, I resolved to work on the potion entirely by myself and to win first place. In the end, once I won and received my certificate from Professor Slughorn, I would see it as my own comeuppance for this very moment of self-disappointment.

I worked with such determination that my obsession with watching the clock and waiting for Sirius was quickly forgotten. Students came in and out of the common room and I never once glanced up at any of them again. After nearly an hour and a half later I looked up around me and saw that the common room was practically deserted, except for a first year boy who’d fallen asleep curled up on the rug by the hearth, and a mousy second year girl who was hiding in a corner parallel to where I was, reading a book that seemed bigger than her by the light of her wand.

I put my own quill down and felt as exhaustion slowly began creep in on me. My hand was beginning to cramp, and the bone in my elbow was sore from having it pressed down on the table for so long. A nice warm bath and my bed were the only images now swimming inside my head, when mere moments ago, while I worked, images of Sirius and Mary out on the grounds snogging had intertwined with images of wormwood and moonstones.

As I massaged my wrist, I heard the portrait of the Fat Lady swing open. I didn’t care much anymore for who was coming in, but still I looked at the hole behind the portrait more as a common reflex than a thought out action. My body stiffened as Sirius stepped into the common room. I had never meant for him to find me still sitting here, with all these books scattered in front of me. How pathetic I would seem to him to still be sitting there three hours later as if still waiting for him.

He looked up just as he stood upright and his gaze fell on me. The astonishment that crossed his face was instantaneous; the sudden yet subtle change in his facial expression could not go unnoticed, his eyes becoming just a little rounder as he looked at me. As he stopped, jerkily in his tracks, the shock of finding me still sitting there, books scattered around me, the room in near total darkness, and everything that that whole image implied, was quickly sinking in.

I looked away uneasily, not sure why I felt more embarrassed than offended, and began to make myself busy by organizing the mess I’d made on the table.

“Emmeline!” he finally said. “I’m so sorry! It completely slipped my mind!”

“No kidding,” I muttered, as I stuffed the writing utensils into my bag.

He moved towards me. “I swear, I never meant to leave you here waiting.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just forget it.”

“If you just let me explain, you’ll see that there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why I forgot I was supposed to meet you here tonight,” he said. He picked up a book off the table and looked uncertain as to what to do with it.

“I don’t need any explanations,” I said flatly, taking the book from his hands, closing it, and shoving it in my bag. “You didn’t show up. Period. There’s nothing we can do to change that.”

“Yes,” he said. “But you see, I had every intention of coming here tonight, but then Mary and I went out into the grounds and—”

He stopped abruptly, quickly closing his mouth mid-sentence. He seemed to realize, just as I looked at him and raised an eyebrow, that there was no way that a story that included him and some girl making out could ever pass for a reasonable explanation as to why he’d stood me up. The lump of his Adam’s apple rose and fell as he swallowed and I looked away partly resentful and partly disappointed, not caring to hear anymore.

“We went out,” he started again, more careful with his choice of words this time. “And everything was fine but then she started asking me all these questions about Violet…”

I never stopped moving to listen to him. I didn’t want him to think that anything he could say could ever make things better. But even as I moved about the table, piling notes together, and then bringing them back to my bag, I listened. I never told him he could save his excuses; I never asked him to leave me alone. I was in my very right to be as unpleasant and rude to him as I wanted, but I simply couldn’t. Remaining silent was my only form of retaliation.

“‘Why did we break up?’ And ‘do I still have feelings for her?’ So I got fed up – I didn’t want to talk about Violet anymore and I snapped. She got really upset then and we got into an argument. I wanted to end it, but she wouldn’t drop it, she just kept going on, seeking new ways to keep the fight going—Merlin’s beard, she can go on and on!”

I rolled my eyes and pulled the strap of my messenger bag over my head.

“Then she started crying, and blubbering, completely convinced that I still have feelings for Violet. _Then_ she tried to force me to tell her I loved her!”

The animosity I’d taken so much care to have etched on my face dissipated as the blood rushed quickly down to my feet. “What?”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger at me. “That was my precise reaction!”

Stunned, I felt around for the chair beside me, pulled it back and sat down. “What did you say to her?”

“That she was mental, of course,” he replied, a little too casually. He pulled out a chair across from me and sat down. “She didn’t like that one bit, so she left crying. Did you not see her come in here?”

“No,” I said disconcerted. “I must’ve been working. I wasn’t really paying much attention once I got started.”

“Well, she did. She left me about an hour ago. I stayed back to give her space, I didn’t want to run into her again tonight, it would’ve only made everything worse.”

He fell silent for a moment as he sat back into his chair and folded his arms across his chest, his gaze slowly becoming lost on the surface of the table. I perused him from under my lashes, as the tension of this uncomfortable silence began to weigh down on me. What exactly was I supposed to say next? Sirius and I were hardly friends, and while I could see that his fight with Mary was bothering him, I didn’t know whether he wished to be comforted or left alone. I wasn’t even sure whether he’d meant to tell me as much as he had. Yet, sitting across from him and not saying a single word, or getting up and leaving, would’ve been rude. Besides, it would’ve been ignorant of me to assume that he would prefer not to be comforted. Who in the world ever shared their troubles with someone, no matter the reason or the occasion, and hoped that they would be brushed off as insignificant?

“Are you alright?” I asked softly, hardly looking up at him. It was a pretty general question, and not much harm could be done with it.

He shrugged. “I guess. It doesn’t really matter.”

We sat quietly for the longest second in human history. I felt as though I had done my part, but still I could not move. I couldn’t bring myself to leave him sitting there by himself looking so troubled. So I stayed and said nothing, waiting for him to make the next move, watching as the mousy little girl finally got up from her seat, went over to the boy sleeping on the rug, woke him up and they both left to their respective dormitories.

Sirius sat up a little straighter and I turned my gaze towards him. “Listen, Em,” he said. “I’m really sorry about tonight. I promise you I didn’t do it intentionally. But I’ll make it up to you, alright?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, giving him a small meager smile.

“No, I mean it,” he continued. “Tomorrow we have our first meeting in the Potions classroom, right? Well, I’ll do everything, whatever you need, I’ll get it; I’ll do all the work. I’ll be your very own personal Potions slave. Does that seem fair?”

My smile gained some strength. “And leave the best part of concocting a potion entirely to you? I don’t think so.”

He laughed. “Alright, we’ll figure it out tomorrow. What time did Slughorn give us again?”

“Four O’clock.”

“Good. I’ll be there,” he said pushing his chair back and standing up.

“I won’t hold my breath,” I replied.

He laughed again. “Alright, I deserve that. But I will be there. An hour early!”

“Frank and Violet have the three o’clock slot,” I reminded him.

“Oh… right,” he said thoughtfully. “That would not be a good idea at all. Well, I’ll be there at four for sure. I give you my word.”

“And I’m holding you to it,” I said. “If you fail me I’ll be requesting to have Diggle back as my partner and that would make you look _really_ bad.”

“Are you saying Diggle was a bad potions partner?” he asked raising his eyebrows, looking at me as he made his way towards the staircase leading to the boys’ dormitories.

My eyes widened. “No, that’s not—”

He started laughing before I could complete my flustered comment. “Night!”

I closed my mouth as he disappeared up the staircase, feeling a little sheepish. Still, there was a silly smile lingering on my lips that I was sure I would regret later.

 

**A/N:** I’ve been having some trouble getting the formatting of the story to work when I upload it, but I always seem to mess it up somehow, so please excuse that. I’m still trying to figure it out :/

I don’t quite remember what it was I listened to when I wrote this three years ago, but over the last few days, as I’ve been editing, I listened to Tchaikovsky’s “Dance of the Swans”.

Please review! It's good for your karma! :)


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

__

Emmeline Vance

October 1976

Even though I’d told Sirius the previous night that I wouldn’t be holding my breath waiting for him to show up to our next meeting, I felt as though I’d been doing it from the very moment my eyes opened that morning. A strange rush of anxiety flowed through me as I stared up at the canopy, and I was slightly surprised to find that it wasn’t made up purely of excitement. I could feel a hint of fear and dread circulating inside of me. In comparison to what I had felt the previous day before being stood up by Sirius, it was completely different. Yesterday, I was nothing but elated. Today, I was filled with too many emotions all at once and not all of them good.

            I was still enthused, I will not lie. I could still think of meeting with Sirius and feel adrenaline pumping fast through my body, my stomach melting, my heart fluttering. But then, I would see him in class, so oblivious to my presence, too distracted hexing a Slytherin fifth year’s underwear, giving him a wedgie, laughing with James as they walked away from the struggling kid, that I couldn’t help but fear that he would end up forgetting about me and standing me up again. It was a mixture of emotions quite like that of climbing a very tall tree – exciting as you’re going up, but half way you look down and remember that you’re terrified of heights and realize that you must now figure out a way to climb back down unscathed. In that same manner, I was once more excited about meeting with Sirius, but at the same time I dreaded being let down by him again.

            Then I’d try to be realistic. I told myself that there was a good chance that Sirius would do it again, that by no means should I get my hopes up, that perhaps it would be better not to expect him to show up at all. But even as I forcedly brought my own spirits down by continuously telling myself these things, a spark of hope struggled to remain aflame. And this is where I felt myself start holding my breath, as if I were making a subconscious, fear trodden wish: _Please, let him show up! Please, let him come to our meeting! Please, let me be wrong!_

            And then four O’clock finally arrived. My heart beat in my ears as I made my way to the Potions classroom, holding my breath with every slow, delaying step I took. Would he be there already waiting? I tried not to envision it; not to picture him outside of the Potions’ classroom or in it, waiting, books at hand, or already stirring a potion. There were better chances of Diggle becoming Minister of Magic than of that happening. So I chose to tell myself that Sirius wouldn’t be there. That he would not come. To just buck up and face reality: Sirius Black could not care about a petty Potions Challenge, not when he had wedgies to administer and girls to snog,

            But even as I said these things to myself, my heart beat faster with anticipation as I turned the corner and the door to the Potions classroom came into plain view. It was closed and no one was standing outside of it. My heart slowly sank, even after all the precautions I’d taken not to feel let down. I took a deep breath and strolled towards the door.

            Once in front of it I knocked and found myself holding my breath again thanks to the one small spark of hope that I wished would burn out once and for all.

            “Frank? Violet?” I said and my stomach squirmed, hoping for Sirius’ voice to call out and say that they had already left and that he was in there waiting for me.

The door swung open and my heart nearly stopped. Frank’s bright smiling face met mine.

“Hey, Em! Just in time; we just finished cleaning up!”

            I forced a smile. “That’s great.”

            Violet came up behind Frank, looking sullen just as she always did now. There were dark circles under her eyes and I didn’t need to wonder how they’d gotten there. The rest of us who shared a dorm with her had grown so accustomed to her soft sobbing at late hours of the night it was odd when we _didn’t_ hear them. They had become as common as the hooting of the owls, the chirping of the crickets or the gentle rustling of the trees branches below in the night breeze.

 Of the four of us Marlene McKinnon was the only one brave enough to tend to her at those moments. Lily Evans would try to comfort her too. But then again she was the sort of person who’d been born with the particular tact that enabled her to get someone to open up their heart to her like a quickly blooming flower. Lily never considered herself too much of a stranger to lend an ear. She was far better than Alice Pennington and I. We mostly pretended we had no idea that Violet cried herself to sleep. And we did a horrible job of it too; awkwardly avoiding Violet’s red puffy gaze in the morning, talking of the weather and other non-consequential things a little too loudly and with an unnecessary excess of energy.  Neither of us had ever been close to Violet and did not possess Lily’s ability to be so openly comfortable with just anyone. Personally, Violet had never struck me as the sort of person who liked being fussed over too much, and I liked to think she appreciated our discretion.

We had never been close, but I had to say that I almost preferred her back when she was boastful and pretentious. Now her somber disposition seemed capable enough to bring down the mood of the entire Great Hall on a Halloween night.

            She looked around me for a moment, a slightly hopeful yet desperate look gleaming in her eyes. The gleam died slowly before she looked directly at me and asked flatly, “Your Potion’s partner missing in action?”

            I knew she had only asked because she had secretly been hoping to see him before departing the classroom. Perhaps she had hoped to even be able to insult him or hex him in some form or manner so as to have his attention solely to herself, even if for the smallest fragment of time. Yet, all I could think about was that this was the second time I’d been stood up by my Potion’s partner in one day, and that I too had been stupidly hoping to have his attention solely to myself for an hour.

            “I don’t know where he is,” I replied softly, fighting the blush that was creeping up my face.

            Violet pursed her lips and half-rolled her eyes before pushing past Frank. As she passed, I thought I heard her mumble something about “Her Majesty” and “Mary” but I had the very distinct feeling that she wasn’t speaking about the Queen of Scots.

            Frank frowned, watching as she left. “I’m beginning to think working on this potion with Diggle might’ve turned out easier than working on it with her.”

            I arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

            “Well,” Frank added thoughtfully. “The idea would make for a very interesting and heated debate.”

            I smiled and we said our goodbyes as he left quickly disappearing around the corner. I gave my surroundings one last glance before finally walking into the classroom, dragging my heavy spirits on the floor behind me.

            Looking around the empty classroom, I sighed. Well, at least now the suspense was over. Did it make me feel any better knowing Sirius was just as unreliable as I’d sketched him out to be? No. But I was also not surprised. And at least I was breathing easily again. I could finally move past the anxiety that had overcome me all day long, and focus on winning the Potions Challenge.

            Still, the energy that usually charged me while prepping to work on a potion was missing. I felt heavy and uninterested.  Usually I’d be making a thousand mental notes, mouthing equations to myself, and frantically trying to find ten different ingredients at once. Instead I was being sluggish. For a moment I found myself just standing in front of the cabinet at the back of the class, holding a bottle of Leprechaun dust, staring blankly at the words on the label. I knew that time was ticking by, that as it was I had less than an hour to work, and still I could not bring myself to find that rush that always helped me work quickly and smoothly.

            A sudden bang behind me startled me and I spun around to see Sirius bursting through the door. My heart bounced inside my chest as I clutched the bottle in my hands tightly. I stared at him as he closed the door behind him, red faced with his chest heaving. My tongue danced, wanting to speak but not knowing what to say first.

            “You’re here!” I finally sputtered, still clutching the bottle of Leprechaun dust to my chest; as if loosening my grip on it would make the moment dissipate into thin air.

            Sirius put a finger to his lips to silence me, and with his back pressed to the door, he turned his eyes towards it, as though he could see what was going on behind it.

            Somewhat confused, I finally put the bottle down and noticed that Sirius was holding a white shoebox securely to himself. He continued listening to the sounds outside the door, and although his actions made no sense to me, and even though the clock on the wall at the front of the class said he was ten minutes late, I felt a smile grow on my lips. He’d come after all. I’d been wrong, just like I’d hoped I’d be. Yes, he was late, but what mattered was that in the end he’d come.

            “Okay, I think we’re safe,” he said, finally stepping away from the door but still watching it as though Death Eaters might just burst through it.

            “Is everything alright?” I asked, pulling the notepad on which I’d made all my notes last night out of my recently mended bag.

            “Yeah,” he said, walking over to our table. “For now.”

            I looked at him quizzically but decided to overlook all his cryptic speak. Perhaps it was better not to know what exactly it was that Sirius had been up to, the reason he had been late, or what could possibly be in that white shoebox that he was now setting atop one of the tables. Ultimately, I was too overjoyed at the mere fact that he’d shown up. There was no need to spoil that feeling by digging deeper than I actually needed to.

            “Alright,” I said, handing him the notepad. “Let’s get started then. You can get the following from the cabinet. I’ll get the cauldron and get the fire started.”

            He took the notepad and looked at the long list of ingredients. Then he frowned quizzically. “How many potions are we making?”

            I laughed. “Just Veritasserum.”

            “Wow, talk about really stepping it up.”

            “Well, I’ve really wanted to try making it but it’s far too complex for Diggle and– do not laugh! – I never really had the chance to try it before.”

            “And you really think we can pull it off?” he asked flipping to the next page in the notepad.

            “If we follow the instructions exactly as I’ve copied them down…” I began.

            Sirius flipped more pages. “This is quite a bit of work.”

            “Well, if you don’t think you can do it—”

            He looked up at me defiantly. “Of course I can do it – the question is can _you_?”

            I smiled at him confidently for the first time. “I have no doubt in my mind.”

            “Well, then let’s get started then,” he said, sticking the notepad under his arm and walking to the back of the class where the cabinet full of jars and bottles was.

            While he searched within the dusty, moldy smelling shelves of the cabinet for all the ingredients, I picked up my brand new pewter cauldron and placed it atop the burner. I pulled several books from my bag and began to search within one of them, through all my carefully divided sections, all separated by red, blue and yellow tabs, for the instructions on the required heating.

            I pointed my wand to the space between the cauldron and the burner and whispered “ _Flamma Vertis!_ ” Green flames erupted from the burner, gently licking the smooth bottom of the cauldron. I smiled at the cauldron the way one smiles at a pet that has just perfectly performed a long studied trick. Just then Sirius approached me carrying a bundle of bottles and jars in his arms.

            “The only ingredient I couldn’t find was the blue Salamander,” Sirius said, bending over and placing the ingredients atop the table.

            “That’s all right; I figured as much,” I said, picking up a bottle and holding it close to my face to read the tiny print on the label. “We won’t need that until we’re closer to finishing up the potion. I’ll have to put in a special order to the apothecary in Diagon Alley. It must be urgent order and then used on the same day since Salamanders only live up to six hours outside of the flames they were born in.”

            “Interesting,” he replied and I failed at that moment to notice the lack of enthusiasm in his voice when he spoke. He pulled a chair out, spun it around and sat on it with its backrest to his chest.

            “It is, isn’t it?” I continued, too occupied with measuring the Essence of Belladona into a dropper to look at his blank, uninterested face. “They’re terribly tricky creatures to catch, being made of fire and all. And did you know that there are two sorts – blue Salamanders and red Salamanders, depending on the heat of the fire they were bred from. The irony of it all is that their eggs must be kept in below freezing temperatures before setting them to the fire to hatch. Also, when they’re born—”

            I looked up from the dropper at him and saw him sitting with his arms across the rim of the backrest, his mouth pressed deep into them so that only his nose peeked from above. His eyes watched my hands cautiously putting three even sized drops of the Essense of Belladona into the cauldron but his gaze wasn’t really there. My cheeks grew warm as I wondered just how long ago during my ramble I had lost him.

            He stared at the cauldron for a while without saying anything and I thought he looked bored and distracted. Immediately, I thought of the conversation we’d had last night concerning his fight with Mary and I considered asking him whether they had made up but decided against it; lest him believe I was trying to pry. Instead, I chose to keep all topics strictly Potions related. At least that way he could get some work done and at the same time find a distraction from whatever it was that was weighing on his mind, without having to compromise his privacy.

 “We’ve got to choose a password for the cauldron,” I said to him, looking down at the cauldron as I poured and stirred leprechaun dust into it.

“Oh right, I’d forgotten about that,” said Sirius, suddenly more alert, sitting up a little straighter and scratching the back of his head. “Any suggestions?”

“Well, it’s got to be something we can remember but complicated enough that no one else will guess what it is,” I said.

Sirius rested his arm on the table and drummed his fingers on the white shoebox he’d brought with him. His eyes narrowed slightly, thinking, moving around the room for inspiration. His gaze fell on the white shoebox and his drumming stopped.

“We could use _frog_ as our password,” he said casually, as if the word had just fallen out of the sky and into his head. “No one would ever guess that.”

Following his gaze, I squinted at him and a smirk formed on my face, “Sirius, what’s in that box?”

“Nothing,” he said sounding unperturbed and sincere. He looked up at me and added, “It is _not_ a frog – _that_ I can assure you of.”

I smiled but decided to let it drop.

After ten counter-clockwise stirs I was to add three more drops of Essence of Belladona, and then stir nonstop for twenty minutes. I handed Sirius the blank notebook I’d picked out for him the night before so that he could write a short report on our progress for the first day. The sight of the cover and first few pages of the notebook slightly bent outward made my face burn a bright pink, as the memory of the anger with which I’d forced it into my bag flashed in my mind. Thankfully, Sirius never noticed because he never once looked up at my face from where he was sitting. He took the notebook and absentmindedly smoothed it down with his hand. He turned to the first page and started writing what I dictated to him.

He wrote diligently and quietly. Never once speaking up to interrupt me or correct me, even though it was often that I retracted several words in my dictation. Even Frank would admit to having his patience tested when taking up one of my dictations. However, Sirius held his head up with his cheek supported by his fist and his elbow pressed to the table. I wanted to ask him if he was all right, but I kept losing my courage. It was odd to me to see him so quiet and calm. There was exhaustion in his disposition. Where was the customary arrogance, the proud laughter, the insolent attitude that challenged everyone to tell him to do differently? Instead he was compliant, polite and disciplined. To my senses, too accustomed to set routines and guidelines, his change in character warned me that something was simply not in place in the world today.

 When my dictation was over he resorted to spinning his wand flat on the table. I kept stirring mostly for something to do, knowing well there was an incantation I could use to keep the spoon stirring on its own. All this time that Sirius and I had been Potions partners I had left the start of conversations completely up to him, otherwise silence reined obstinately between us two. But what was to be expected from two people who had spent most of their childhood together but as if in different worlds? The opportunity had never come up for either of us to talk about ourselves with each other; or in any case, neither of us had ever sought it. Our conversations for the past six years had been strictly school business; never anything more than what the day’s homework was, or an enquiry to borrow my notes, or perhaps a curiosity to ask how exactly it was that Frank ended up with a bloody nose in our third year (a Defense Against the Dark Arts spell gone wrong on my part…an incident Frank still loved to rub in my face whenever the occasion called for it). But other than that, there was nothing else to discuss, and perhaps it seemed – now that we were older – that it was too late to try, too rude to pry, or that we had grown perfectly indifferent. And for a long time this had been true for the both of us, until my foolish brain decided that thinking about Sirius would make for an entertaining pastime.

I finally guilt tripped myself into saying something. Perhaps Sirius had grown tired of thinking up conversation topics over the last month. Perhaps he had known that I wasn’t very good with small chit chat and had put an effort into trying to make things more comfortable between us. I thought perhaps he felt he’d done as much as he could do. So I strained my brain until I thought of something I could say to break the heavy silence that was slowly beginning to asphyxiate me.

“You know, I almost thought you weren’t going to show up again.”

He looked up at me as I spoke and smiled, meekly – a tired, forced smile that made me feel guilty now for having spoken at all. Perhaps all he wanted was some quiet time to think and here I was putting the strain on him to try and keep a mediocre conversation going with me.

“You thought I was going to stand you up a second time?” he asked, never ceasing with the spinning of his wand.

“Well—yes. Kind of.”

He smiled a little wider. “Do you have this little faith in everyone or is it just me?”

“Oh, no, don’t take it personally. Generally, I have no faith in anyone.”

He laughed and my heart reacted to his laughter as if someone had connected jumper cables to it.

“That makes two of us then,” he said, still smiling, but this time the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

I cleared my throat and pressed on; thinking that if I’d been able to make him laugh once then there was still hope to pull him out of this morose state he’d been sitting in for the past thirty-five minutes.

“You can’t blame me for being paranoid.”

“No, I don’t suppose I can,” he said, leaning forward and pressing his chin to the palm of his hand, now trying to make his wand stand on end on top of the white shoebox. “It’s my fault; it usually is.”

Oh no. I realized now that this conversation wasn’t headed in the right direction.

“But don’t worry,” he added, putting his wand down and his brows becoming slightly furrowed. I detected bitter resentment in the tone of his voice. “Mary won’t be around to distract me anymore, so I won’t stand you up or be late again.”

I swallowed hard for a moment as I searched his face. He never once looked up at me but now his gaze was focused on his wand, as if he were seeing something distasteful on it, and I quickly made all the connections. His sullen mood all day, his fight with Mary, this sudden change in attitude from morose to bitter, how easily he worked the subject of Mary into a conversation that had nothing to do with her; it could all only mean one thing.

“What do you mean? Are you two okay?” Actually, I already had an idea of what he meant. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out when something isn’t right. Still, it’s always better advice to ask rather than to assume because…well, we know what happens when you assume.

“Well, not since we broke up this morning, no, I wouldn’t say we’re okay,” he replied and the bitter resentment in his voice was magnified just enough to send a warning signal to my brain.

_Don’t push the subject_ , I told myself. I pressed my lips together and looked down at the cauldron, thinking it would probably have been a better idea to remain silent, hoping it wasn’t too late to opt for that alternative now.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied, mostly because it would’ve been rude not to say anything, but I added finality to the tone of my voice in hopes of indicating that this should be the end of the conversation.

Hardly five seconds of silence passed before he spoke up again. “Go on, say it.”

I looked at him blankly. Honestly nonplussed. He gazed back at me with a mildly defiant look on his face. The sardonic smile had returned; the one arched eyebrow that asked you if you dared, and the tone of his voice was biting and forceful.

I inhaled and exhaled as discreetly as I could trying not to show that I was quickly becoming flustered. “Excuse me?”

“Say it,” he repeated. “Say what you’re thinking – that I’m a scumbag for breaking up with Mary.”

I frowned. “Why would I be thinking that?”

His expression morphed a little from the defiant one, to one of guarded curiosity. “Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Well, Lily apparently has dibs on toe rag, since that’s her preferred name for me. I figured you girls take these names, put them into a fishbowl and everyone picks one out. That way no one gets repeats.”

“Well if that’s how it works I don’t believe I’ve been invited to one of these name-picking parties,” I said scathingly, starting to feel a little indignant from Sirius’ cynicism.

He smiled – a teasing smile this time, further from his trademark mocking smirk and closer to the genuine one I’d made him smile before. I turned my eyes back down to the cauldron in an attempt to ignore the fact that I’d made him smile again. This time I didn’t care for it. I was beginning to feel I’d preferred him when he was sullen and quiet.

“It would certainly explain why you don’t have a name for me,” he said.

“I don’t have a name for you because I see no need for one.”

“And why’s that?”

I inhaled sharply and exhaled exasperatedly, finally setting the spoon down. “Because…”

Turning my eyes over to him, I saw him raise his eyebrows with expectancy.

“Because…I think you were right…” I finally said, somewhat grudgingly since I felt as though he had pushed me to be this honest with him on a subject on which I wished to have no opinion.

All the hard lines of his face softened but his gaze never wavered. His eyes were a little round with surprise and I avoided having to look at him directly. I added three more drops of Essense of Belladona and began stirring ten times clockwise.

“You think I was right in dumping Mary?” he asked, disconcertion in his voice.

“Not in dumping her specifically,” I said with a little trouble, really wishing he would drop the subject but realizing we were too far in to stop now. “I think you were right in being alarmed at what she was asking you to do.”

“You mean forcing me to tell her I loved her?”

“Yes,” I said, pulling the spoon out of the cauldron and resting it on the side for a moment. “I think it’s ridiculous to use love as a guarantee. Saying…those words…should be an act done willingly – something that comes from the heart. They should certainly never be requested.”

“I agree,” he said.

“However—” I continued.

“How did I not see this coming?” he asked no one in particular and I bit my tongue in order not to smile.

“I can see where Mary was coming from,” I said.

“Loonyville?”

My lips then betrayed me with a small smile that I quickly forced back into hiding.

“No,” I began slowly. “I think she was desperate for something that she could hold on to – some sort of reassurance; something that would prove to her that you were hers exclusively. It hasn’t been easy on her you know, being…being with you…” I felt the heat rise up to my face before I even said anything else. “You _are_ a bit of a demand amongst the girls at Hogwarts.”

“Well she didn’t talk about any other girls. She spoke about Violet specifically, certain that I wasn’t over her,” he said.

“The new girls are usually jealous of the ex-girls,” I commented, resuming the stirring.

“The thing is,” Sirius said, “I didn’t really break up with Mary over our brawl last night. Or at least, that’s not the entire reason…it doesn’t feel like it is…”

I stirred the potion slower, losing count of how many times I was stirring as his comment seeped into my brain.  My senses grew cautious while I meditated the meaning in his words. I asked him what he meant but even as I did I felt my muscles stiffening with tension. Something told me that at the other side of that question lied an answer I might not like to hear.

“While she was accusing me of still having feelings for Violet…there were things she was saying… I didn’t feel one hundred percent truthful when I was denying them…”

This abrupt confession made a cold rush flow through my body, halting my actions and even my breathing for a short moment. I looked at him briefly, trying to find in his face a reason for this sudden frankness. At the same time my stomach twisted uncomfortably inside me. Was this a side of Sirius Black I wanted to know? Was I ready to understand the inner machinations of his mind?

“Maybe Mary wasn’t completely wrong…” he finally added, never once raising his eyes towards me.

I swallowed hard. My face grew cold then very suddenly hot again and then cold once more. My lips went numb and my stomach turned this time nauseatingly inside of me. I dared not say anything for two reasons: because I might throw up and because I wanted this conversation to end now. This bizarre reaction to Sirius’s confession was more proof than I needed to know that I was not in any way ready to figure out the tangled mess that lay inside that deceivingly beautiful head of his.

It seemed that’s all Sirius’s life was: a big tangled ball of yarn. You kept pulling and pulling at strings trying to untangle it, and just when you started to think you were finally making progress, that you may finally be able to loosen the yarn, you find a new mess of knots that seem to have no beginning and no end. You wonder if you’ll ever get to the end, and you pull and you pull and you end up in the same place again. Then you grow frustrated and throw the ball across the room wondering what the point is if there’s any at all.

He may just as well have confessed that he hadn’t cared for Mary. That he still wished he could be with Violet. He never said it in so many words but clearly this is what he was trying to tell me. Why he was telling me, I’ll never understand, but the point of the matter was that the words had come out from his own mouth; no one had pushed him to admit anything. And these answers only brought about more questions: why had he pursued Mary if he had not been over Violet? Why would he break up with Violet if he’d never wanted to? Had he broken up with her and then realized it had been a mistake? How long ago during his relationship with Mary had he realized it? And how dare he give Mary a hard time for something she had been right about!

Was this the sort of person I hoped to find myself involved with? My heart beat slowly, filled with shame. Yes, shame on me! Shame on me for giving him more of my thinking time than he was ever worth!

A surge of warmth flowed through me, reenergizing me and filling me once more with pride. No, this _wasn’t_ the sort of person I wanted to be involved with! Wasn’t that what I had been trying to fight all this time? Hadn’t I been trying to convince myself that Sirius wasn’t worth anything? That I was much better off without him in my life?

_Use this!_ I heard my mind cry out. _Look at him and realize once and for all what a jerk he is!_

I needed this. Blocking and avoiding his offences would never do; it would only keep me shielded from the truth. I had to expose myself to them and see him with my own eyes for what he truly was.

I looked over at him and the energy-filled rush I’d just felt slowly began to fade away. When before I’d felt rapid currents of blood racing through my veins, now it was as if it were simply taking a casual, mellow ride through them. It was upon observing the gentle frown, so foreign on his mocking lips, and the troubled look upon his eyes that the change within me happened. The heat rushed to my face and remained there this time, knowing I had been about to judge him; to hold what I presumed was his negligence, against him.

But his face was not the face of someone who was proud of the harm they’d caused, or of someone who’d premeditatedly wished to cause it. His face was that of someone who was growing weary and frustrated by a tangled ball of yarn that seemed to have no beginning and no end.

My heart was suddenly beating again with renewed strength, feeling vindicated. Quickly, I looked away from him, as an unexpected, irrational fear began to fill me. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was that had caused it or what the fear was made up of, but upon looking at him and seeing him for the first time appearing so withered, I was certain that my heart would burst; that my body would grow too heavy with emotion to keep standing . In looking away I felt these feelings dissipate and I felt safe – from what, I wasn’t quite sure – but I felt once more in control of myself.

Before either of us could say another word, the door burst open startling us. Sirius, the more prepared one for unexpected attacks (due to all the trouble he was regularly in, no doubt) jumped to his feet pulling his wand out and taking a fighting stance in a matter of milliseconds; no thought was placed into any of his actions. His response was so swift that it was obvious he moved on pure instinct. In the meantime, I simply gasped and gripped the wooden spoon in my hand more firmly.

Augustus Rookwood a Slytherin sixth year had blasted our door open and was now staring at Sirius menacingly, holding his wand out in front of him.

“WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS MY TOAD!” Rookwood demanded. His face was red with ire, his teeth grinded mechanically. Rookwood wasn’t particularly good looking, but he looked even further from it now.

“What the hell are you talking—” Sirius began but was quickly cut off by Rookwood’s reverberating bellows.

“DON’T LIE! SNAPE SAID HE SAW YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS STEAL HIM! NOW WHERE IS HE?”

“I’ve already told you—” Sirius exclaimed but this time it was Rookwood’s unanticipated hex flying straight towards his feet that cut him short.

Sirius’s failed attempt at a deflecting spell went up into a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. He had been caught off guard and the jinx had been quicker. He leaped high, backwards, avoiding the hot red jinx that struck the marble floor where he’d just been standing.

He stumbled into a chair and only found balance when his back collided with mine. I had been standing hunched over, trying to shield my head with my arms, but the collision had propelled my body forward and I tumbled to the row of desks next to ours, my arms stretched out before me hoping to prevent my fall.

I crashed into the edge of table next to ours. Then, I heard a loud grunt that I thought had come from my own body, but the wind had been knocked out of me. Although I wanted to yelp in agony, no sound came out of my mouth.

The grunt I heard had actually come from Sirius. I would’ve turned to look at him, but I feared that moving would only increase the intensity of the pain in my abdomen. However, a crash echoed from the front of the class and I heard Rookwood curse loudly. I thus deduced that the grunt had been a sign of Sirius striking back at Rookwood with his own jinx.

I pushed myself off slowly with one arm while bringing the other arm to my stomach, certain that once I stood upright my ribs would crumble down inside me. Jinxes were still swooshing by behind me, and glass objects were breaking all around us. I tried to look around but the entire room swiveled and I felt my lunch slowly begin to make its way up my esophagus.

 “Emmeline! Some help would be nice!” Sirius snapped behind me.

What did he think I was doing— taking a nap? I lifted my other hand to my mouth now, with some hope that this might help subside the nausea. Instead I found that my fingers were still tightly wrapped around the wooden spoon. It suddenly occurred to me that I did not know where my wand was. This frightening realization made all other thoughts dissipate and the throbbing pain and nausea became but distant thoughts. I checked my pockets and felt around my robes for it. Even if I wanted to help Sirius end this fight before the whole Potions classroom was destroyed, I couldn’t.

“Emmeline!” Sirius cried out and I whirred around just in time to see him send his own spell towards Rookwood. Rookwood deflected it and the jet of red light came zooming right back towards Sirius. Sirius swung out again and I saw the half-clear bubble form in front of his wand but the red jet of light merely grazed its edge and instead struck my cauldron.

My mouth dropped in a gasp that brought no air to my lungs, as I watched the Veritasserum potion quickly cascading to the floor, while bits of pewter flew out all around us, resounding on the marble floor with soft clangs as they fell.

My heart was in my throat and I’m pretty sure that it was blocking a large amount of vomit from spewing out of my mouth. I knelt down and I almost caressed the glazing syrup that now covered the floor around our feet.

“EM!” Sirius yelled snapping me out of my state of shock.

Sirius’s commanding voice triggered a burning rage inside of me. Hot, boiling blood was coursing through me and my actions formed as I thought them, without premeditation, without weighing them out. They were so brash that for a moment it seemed the actions were coming before the thoughts that caused them. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I stood upright and with strength I’d never thought I had, I flung my arm out and threw the wooden spoon still in my hand in Rookwood’s direction.

Rookwood got ready to deflect what he thought was my own hex aimed towards him, but as he saw the spoon coming he was distraught and lagged a second too long in reacting.  Sirius then found the opportunity he’d been waiting for and struck him squarely in the chest with another hex.

The force of the jinx forced Rookwood backwards through the air, causing him to slam his back into the blackboard. For a moment one had to wonder, as he fell limply and unconsciously in a heap to the floor, which had done more damage: the jinx to his chest or the collision with the board.

Lowering his wand and breathing hard, Sirius turned to look at me. “A wooden spoon, really?”

 “Don’t you dare judge me when my potion is still trickling from that desk unto the floor!” I exclaimed, still seething.

I thought I saw the corners of his lips twitch while an amused gleam shone in his eyes. But I ignored him and turned away scowling. I reached for my wand which was swimming in the slimy remnants of the Veritasserum, beside the burner on which the cauldron had sat moments ago.

“Always have your wand on you,” he advised while I wiped my wand on my robe. “Now, come on, we’ve got to get rid of the evidence.”

I frowned at him. “What evidence? We have to clean up this mess!”

“In a minute. Right now I need your help. Hold this,” he said picking up the white shoebox and thrusting it towards me.

“What are you giving this to me for? Wait! Where are you going?”

He headed down between the rows of desks to the front of the classroom where Rookwood lay unconscious. Waving his wand over his body, Rookwood suddenly rose up to the air and floated there as if suspended by invisible strings; head arms and legs hanging limply about him. With another flick of his wand, Sirius was soon levitating Rookwood out of the classroom.

I put the white shoebox back down on the table and I turned to the mess still surrounding me. My blood was slowly beginning to cool off but every time I looked down at the waste of ingredients and hard work splattered all over the floor, I could feel leftover ambers inside me still singeing.

“Well, are you coming?”

I twisted my neck around and saw Sirius poking his head inside the classroom. Even as I set my jaw and furrowed my brow angrily at the audacity of his question, I felt my heart plead as it beat with a childish excitement that I knew had no place in my body at that time. I was livid and indignant! He should know this! But then why did I feel like I had to remind myself of these very things? Was I actually considering following him out even after what he and Rookwood had done to my potion?

He smirked, an arrogant, all-knowing smirk and then stepped back out of the classroom. I scowled at him even though he did not see and turned right back around hoping an ounce of the fury that had possessed me moments ago would possess me again. But no such luck. I was breathing easy again and all my muscles had relaxed. There was only the frantic beating of my heart that begged me to be foolish one more time and follow him out the door. I let out a breath of defeat, rolled my eyes, picked up the white shoebox and turned towards the door.

“What are you going to do with Rookwood?” I asked as I caught up to him. Sirius turned the corner and headed down the deserted corridor towards a statue of Hengist of Woodcroft. The tall, gray marble sculpture stood erect, one arm stretched out before him, the other placed at his heart. Sirius waved his wand again and Rookwood rose higher. Carefully, he hooked the back of Rookwood’s collar unto the outstretched hand of the statue.

“You can’t just leave him there!” I cried horrified.

“Who’s going to stop me?” Sirius asked, looking at me and cocking an eyebrow defiantly.

I opened my mouth to say that I would but closed it quickly. I didn’t keep a habit of telling on people and I certainly did not want to be known as that snooty girl who told on Sirius Black. Pursing my lips in disapproval was all that I really could do.

“We could get in big trouble if someone sees us,” I said; a lame attempt at trying to get him to change his mind. Instead he stepped up to Rookwood and began undoing his belt buckle.

“And what will they do – give us detention?” he asked and then continued even more cynically, “Oh, the horror…”

“I’ve never had a single detention in my life,” I replied, sticking my chin out proudly.

“How utterly dull your life must be,” he said, easily tripping my high horse so that I went flying off of it.

I huffed and looked around while adjusting the shoebox in my arms. Finally, I turned to him and asked, “Why don’t you just give him his toad back, you know that’s what’s in this box.”

“I can’t,” Sirius began as he pulled Rookwood’s pants down to his ankles.

I grimaced at the sight of Rookwood’s pale scrawny legs. “Why not?”

“Because…it wasn’t dead when we stole it from him,” Sirius replied coming over to where I stood. Once in front of me he lifted the shoebox’s lid revealing a stiff, wide-eyed toad inside of it.

“You killed his toad!”

 “It was an accident,” Sirius replied coolly, placing the lid back on. “We ran into some difficulty when trying to catch him.”

My eyes narrowed at him and at his poor excuse. “Oh, forgive me, that makes everything so much better!”

Sirius laughed. “Oh come on, relax, it’s just a bloody toad. I hear muggles cut these things open for fun all the time.”

“That’s beside the point. You cold bloodedly murdered someone’s pet!”

“This toad was vicious; it was more like self-defense, really.”

The laughter was still alive in his eyes and he looked at me expectantly as if waiting for me to see the humor in all of this. There were things about Sirius Black that honestly had amused me in the past years when they shouldn’t have. His quick wit and I’ll admit that some of his immature pranks, the more harmless ones could cause a tickle to my funny bone. But this, the murder of someone’s pet, accidental or not, as petty as it might seem, was not one of them. So I set my jaw and unflinchingly shoved the shoebox towards him.

“Here; I want nothing to do with this,” I said gravely, holding out the box waiting for him to take it.

The seriousness I was placing into the situation only seemed to amuse him more and this only made me even more furious. However, I avoided meeting his eyes for fear that I would succumb.

He finally took the shoebox and said with a smirk still flickering over his lips. “I think you are already too far in not to get involved. Come on, help me get rid of the evidence.”

I shot him an angry glare and he laughed. “I beg your pardon—won’t you please help me give this toad a proper burial?”

“I’m very sorry that you think this is all a joke, but you figure out what you’re going do with your dead toad. I have to go and clean up the mess you and Rookwood left in the Potion’s classroom, not to mention try and figure out a way to make up for all the time we wasted today.”

“Are you always this uptight?” he asked.

I’d opened my mouth to retort but I lost all coherence as his skin made contact with mine when he grabbed me by the wrist. All the words I’d meant to say to him went astray and were replaced by new words, flustered words, too many of them trying to cram into my head all at once, none of them of which I could speak out loud to make more room. My head began to spin and my neck and face suddenly grew very hot. Sirius was completely oblivious to all of this as he led my teetering body behind him, poking his head out around the corner to ensure no one was around.

“Come on,” he whispered. My heart was beating hard against my chest, and it was the only part of my whole body that I could feel. That, and his five warm fingers wrapped securely around my weak wrist.

I closed my eyes for a second trying to clear my head, trusting my wobbly feet to follow his path without waning too far. I was trying to find sensible words inside my head that I could put together in order to ask him to stop but even my tongue was refusing to cooperate. It felt heavy inside my mouth, as if it had fallen asleep.

Finally, I blurted out, “Sirius, wait!”

He didn’t listen and simply led me down the staircase. We passed two fourth year girls on our way down and they stared at us in awe. I saw them looking directly at me, their mouths dropped slightly agape. My face burned an even brighter red and I wished that I could have the strength and time to explain to them that it wasn’t what it looked like. Yet, something inside of me rejoiced – my stomach, I think, or maybe my heart since it was much more senseless. But that deeper hidden part of me whose voice I so often tried to block out wanted those two girls to think that this _was_ what it looked like. And for no good reason except that I knew exactly what they were thinking and feeling in seeing Sirius Black and me running down the staircase together. I had never been on this side of the picture before.

Reality and sense crawled back into me. I shook my head and tried to focus my thoughts. No, this wasn’t a good thing. Why would I want to make other girls feel those dreadful things I’d felt so many times? I wasn’t Mary McDonald or Violet Caldwell or any of the other girls I’d often seen with him running away to some hidden place where we could be alone. This was nothing more than some immature impulse of Sirius’ that he was dragging me to; nothing more than just a way to divert my attention from the disaster he’d caused upstairs.

We came unto the landing of the first floor and there we ran into Frank who frowned nonplussed at the image we painted. I hoped that my face looked as disgruntled as I wanted to be and not as fascinated as I actually felt. I opened my mouth this time to explain to him that this was not what it looked like, but we were soon further down the stairs leaving him behind, looking at us as if he’d just seen the Giant Squid run past him down the staircase.

“Sirius, the potion…it’s completely ruined…I have to find a way to start it over today or—” I said frantically, as I tried to hold on to my logic the way one tries to hold on to balloons that are scattering quickly into the blue, windy skies.

“Sirius…”

We were soon outside on the school grounds and that was about the time that I realized part of me had not really wanted him to stop and go back, even though I had begged him to. A stronger part of me – a more foolish part of me – had really wanted to follow him all along. Inside, my irrational hormones were dying to find out where this would lead, and they refused to give up their time with him so easily; time that they had always craved and had always been denied, time that they now could indulge in. And who could blame them, when it had been handed so easily to them a month ago when Professor Slughorn had practically shoved Sirius into my life?

We ran down a slope and I let him lead me silently, although inside my head it wasn’t very silent at all. Loud thoughts were correlating one into the other while I simply tried to focus on making my legs follow him.

“Here,” he said, slowing down his pace as we reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the abundance of trees began to crowd together before expanding out into the vast land.

I looked at him blankly, raising my eyebrows, terribly afraid of opening my mouth and letting the wrong words out.

“Hold this,” he said, handing me the white shoebox. He then leaned over and muttered a couple of incantations while waving his hand over a small patch of grassy earth. The earth began to rise, summoned by his wand, off the ground and then it fell into a neat pile on the other side. He did this a couple of more times until there was a small and relatively deep hole in the ground that was just the right size for the shoebox. Turning to me, he held his hand out for the shoebox and after I’d handed it to him he placed it inside the hole.

He stood upright and stepped back. Then with another flick of his wand, the excess dirt in the pile beside the hole rose once more and fell right on top of the shoebox, covering it completely, leaving a small bump of dirt above it.

We were both now standing side by side gazing out towards the small grave when Sirius asked, “Would you like to say a few words?”

I looked over my shoulder at him and I searched his face for any hint of mockery. He raised his eyebrows and I could see that he was trying to keep a serious a façade as he could, but there was that glint in his eyes again, alive with the prospect of mischief that gave him away.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I turned to face the grave again and with a defeated sigh, I began, “I guess…I’m really sorry Sirius killed you…for what it’s worth, he didn’t do it on purpose…or at least that’s what he says…”

Sirius laughed and I looked up at him again this time flashing him a glare.

“Yeah, sorry…” he mumbled, clearing his throat as he tried to regain his composure, a smile still trying to force its way onto his lips. I was finding it hard to fight back my own smile, too.

“And we’re sorry some desperate store owner once sold you to Rookwood, whom I’ve heard used to dress you in tutus,” he added. “No one deserves either of those two fates.”

I rolled my eyes but it was too late; I made an involuntary noise at the back of my throat while trying to hold back a laugh. He took this as his cue to laugh freely.

“So I suppose this makes you my accomplice,” Sirius said as we stood just a few seconds longer facing the tiny grave.

“I had nothing to do with this,” I reminded him. “You and your friends killed him.”

“And you’re out here with me,” he pointed out. “Saying our last goodbye to our victim. _That_ , my dear, makes you my accomplice.”

“If you tell anyone I had anything to do with this I myself will organize a name picking party and will have every single girl here calling you by names you never thought you’d hear coming from ladies’ mouths,” I replied.

“Hmm,” he said contemplatively. “I should’ve figured you’d turn on me. Looks like I’m going to have to figure out a way to get rid of you too.”

I laughed and looked at him. He stared serenely out towards the forest before turning his eyes towards me and wagging his eyebrows playfully, smirking. Blood rushed fast through my body towards my face and I had to look away instantly, though still smiling, while my heart thumped wildly inside me.

“Sirius!” A voice called out somewhere behind us.

We both turned at the same time to see James, Remus and Peter standing at the top of the slope, waving at us.

Sirius turned towards me. “I’ve got to go. Is it alright if you clean up in the Potions classroom by yourself this time?”

I felt my spirits, which had been flying so high just mere seconds ago, fall lifelessly to the ground. Our time together was over and if that wasn’t depressing enough, he was in such a rush to get back to his regular life and his regular people, that he couldn’t be bothered spending two extra minutes helping me clean up.

“Sure,” I said forcing the smile on my face to remain looking sincere.

“Great!” he said already running up the slope. “Tomorrow, same time?”

I simply nodded and gave him a feeble, disheartened wave. I watched sullenly as he made his way towards his friends.

Turning my back to them, I stared out towards the grave once more, waiting for them to leave. There was a strange mixture of emotions swelling up inside my chest, similar to when one feels like crying...but when I searched within me there were no tears. No, it wasn’t sadness I felt; it was resignation. Quite like having ones hopes blown to large proportions and then having the same person that blew them up, pop them with a sharp needle. There’s nothing to be done about it and crying would just be useless.

However, I had no doubt in my mind that I would think about this afternoon for a long time to come. I would dissect it, turn it inside out, repeat it in my mind until it got worn down and faded. I’d replay the whole day over, late at night, in the security of the darkness that never gave me away. And I would smile, to myself, into my pillow, where even my own self-chastising thoughts couldn’t find me.

But even with the nostalgia for an afternoon I had dreamed of for months still so fresh inside me,  I reminded myself that I must not get my hopes up, that I should never allow my heart to beat this hard for him. Sirius Black was a lethal mixture of trouble and heartbreak and I’d promised myself to never let myself become involved with any of it.

The problem was that, lately, that promise was becoming harder to keep.

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Your constructive criticism is not only welcome, but encouraged, so please, if you read, leave a review and let me know what you think


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